Brotherhood
by Sweet Lu
Summary: On the run, a man stumbles through the swamp, racing to escape the men who captured him. He is alone and far from home with no hope anyone will find him because no one knows where he is. A multi-chapter story featuring Deeks and Callen, with my original characters, the Atwood family.
1. Chapter 1

Brotherhood

Chapter 1

...

He stumbled to his knees, his breathing labored and harsh in the humid air, and took a long look at the brackish black water in front of him before turning to see how close his pursuers might be. Hearing nothing but the unrelenting sound of crickets and frogs, he swiped once again at the blood that had seeped from the cut along his eyebrow and mingled with the sweat dripping from his hair. The light was rapidly disappearing, and the trees seemed to bend lower, their scraggly trunks closing in around him, heightening his anxiety. The cry of some unknown creature startled him, forcing out a curse as he staggered to his feet and started across the swampy ground beside the water, the foul smelling muck sucking at his boots. He reeled as the sloppy ground slid beneath him, throwing him off balance and aggravating the pain in his ribs and knee, but he didn't stop, his fear too great and his need to find a safe haven driving him on through the dense vegetation he had grown to hate. Tangled roots he could no longer see caught at his feet in the ever darkening swamp, and he cursed quietly to himself whenever he fell. Finally pausing once again to rest and listen, he scratched at the myriad bug bites covering his arms and face, running his hand behind his neck to tenderly finger the raw skin there. The sudden, far off sound of voices made him catch his breath, his hand trembling as he covered his face and spit out a whispered name almost as a curse, which it was to him. He had no hope if they found him, so he had to keep running until he could find a place to hide and wait them out, to survive as long as he could. Knowing their tracking skills, he reluctantly stepped off the bank into the dark, forbidding waters, holding in a dry laugh that came from the knowledge that there would be no help coming. He was alone, desperate and without hope, because no one knew where he was.

"Dumbass," whispering the well-worn nickname as he searched the edges of the waterway for a hiding place.

The shouts behind him grew louder, making him slow his pace and wade more quietly in the strangely lukewarm water. He could feel the mud squishing between his toes as his boots filled, and he pulled distractedly at the sweat soaked neck of the camo t-shirt he'd stolen from the man he'd escaped from. As the water rose to his waist he felt something glide past his leg and he stopped, shivering in spite of the heat, waiting and praying whatever it was would leave him be. When he looked up he could just make out a distant, dark shape against the indigo sky and he pushed forward, swimming silently until he gripped the limb of a fallen tree, its canopy offering a hiding place he desperately needed. Darkness enveloped him as he ducked underneath and waited for his eyes to adjust. The large, shallow roots had been ripped from the ground and the water had sluiced out an opening allowing him to crawl up between two of them and settle into the dry cavity behind. The rich and comforting smell of dirt surrounded him and he eased out a shaky breath, waiting for his heart to quit pounding. The exposed roots hung low overhead, almost completely blocking out what remained of the day's light, and he silently gave thanks that they hadn't brought the dogs.

A sneeze just above him made him freeze, and the foul curse that followed sucked away his breath. The familiar, gravelly voice made him angry that he had no weapon, wanting nothing more than to kill the man slowly and painfully, even though it would reveal his position and get him recaptured. The man was a psycho. A vile human being, if you could even call him that. His hands shook as he gripped his hair and pulled his head down to his knees, willing away the haunting images of his partner's death and trying to control his rage. His mouth formed a silent scream, one he couldn't afford to give voice to or it all would have been for nothing. He would survive. He would bring them all down and then he would kill the man hunting him and the bastard who had betrayed him.

...

"LA traffic sucks."

"What else is new, G?" Sam laughed.

"I'm just sayin'."

"What's got you so grumpy, partner?"

Callen didn't answer, and Sam frowned and settled in for one of those days. Whenever Deeks was away on an undercover assignment his partner became distant and grouchy. Sometimes it still surprised him that Callen and Deeks had formed such a deep bond, the two men spending off hours together whenever they could, or whenever Kensi wanted some time to herself. Once Callen had stopped fighting his feelings for Deeks, and been accepted into Deeks' far-flung adopted family, he had treated the younger man as if he were a rare gift, which in retrospect wasn't far from the truth for Callen. His partner had once been satisfied being a loner. He had gotten used to it. Over the years he had cultivated few friends except for him and possibly Hetty, but as close as the two of them were, his partner's relationship with Deeks was different. They had become like brothers and that close relationship had opened a whole new world to his partner and it had changed him. He was far more emotional now than he had ever seen him, and unafraid to display those emotions, especially if it concerned Deeks, and that sometimes complicated things. Sam wouldn't begrudge him a family, and that is what he had found with Deeks and the Atwoods and he was happy for him, no matter how difficult he was to handle if things went a little bit sideways.

"When are they due back?"

"Three days ago," Callen replied softly.

"You talk to Hetty?"

"I've talked to her everyday for three days," Callen said, a hint of anger in his voice.

Sam had sat with him on the couch in the bullpen the night he had returned from Santa Fe. He'd patiently listened as his partner had haltingly shared his fierce anger at seeing Deeks in the clutches of a disturbed family ready to end his life as if it meant nothing. He thought the experience had cemented Callen's commitment to Deeks. Now the two men watched out for each other, and teased one another in ways only brothers were allowed to. It never failed to get a smile out of Sam when they really argued, the disagreement usually ending with Deeks pulling Callen to him for a quick, brotherly hug. The look on his partner's face when that happened made days like this worth it. Sam had never been happier for him.

"You're pissed at Hetty aren't you?" Sam asked softly.

"She wouldn't even tell me what the assignment was or where he was going," Callen exploded, his eyes intense. "Why would she keep that from me, Sam?"

"You know Hetty, G," Sam replied as calmly as he could. "Everything is on a need to know basis."

"Yeah? Well, I need to know," Callen snapped.

"Maybe she didn't trust you."

"Why the hell not?"

"Don't tell me you wouldn't have charged out after him the minute he missed a check-in," Sam said.

"It's been three days," Callen shot back.

"Come on G. Just calm down and think," Sam replied reasonably. "You know undercover assignments are fluid. They don't follow a calendar. Just think about this logically and quit jumping to conclusions. Things aren't always as they seem. I know you're afraid for him and for Kensi, but don't get ahead of yourself and think the worst."

"I know," Callen replied quietly. "But, I don't have to like it."

"You've never had a lot of patience, so I'm not surprised," Sam laughed.

"You think he's okay?"

"I'm sure they both are," Sam replied calmly, wanting to reassure his partner even though he harbored some concern himself.

"But what if they're not?" Callen looked over at him with turbulent eyes. "What do I do if...if he's killed?"

"I told you not to think that way," Sam cautioned. "They're trained agents. They watch each other's back, so don't do this to yourself. It's not healthy."

"Life isn't fair, Sam," his voice full of resignation. "You and I both know that."

"Why are you thinking of the worse case scenario?" Sam asked angrily. "Stop it, G. You don't know what's happened and until you do, you have to keep believing he'll walk into the mission with that irritating, crooked ass grin on his face."

They sat in silence as they waited for the light to change, the warm air filled with a mixture of exhaust and the smell of the sea. Sam had never seen Callen like this before. He had seen him angry after they rescued Deeks from South Africa, roaring with it when they'd let him be taken again. Sam had watched him fight his growing attachment to Deeks, but after France he had simply given in and been caught up in the force that was the Atwood family. When he'd gotten the call from Joe that he was missing in Santa Fe, he was so focused Sam wasn't sure he'd heard anything he'd said, but he had never been fearful and he had never lost hope. Callen was a survivor. He always figured a way to deal with whatever came his way, so this attitude was new, as if he expected to have the rare gift of a brother ripped away from him.

"You should see him on a horse," Callen said quietly. "He and Joe race each other and Deeks gets beat every single time. I can tell he's pissed about losing, but he just jokes about it like he does with everything else. Elan teases him without mercy, though. He's a good rider, but even Elan's son, Soldier, beats him in a horse race."

"You ever race him?" Sam asked, trying to picture Callen willingly getting on a horse.

"Yeah...the long weekend we spent at the ranch right before he left for this op. George put me on a quarter horse that used to race the local circuit," he laughed. "I sat on a pillow for the rest of the weekend."

"Did you win?"

"No...and Deeks didn't let me forget it. Joe and Elan either," Callen smirked. "Bragged about it the whole weekend."

"How's Soldier doing?" Sam asked.

"Turned twelve a couple of months ago," Callen replied. "He's had some rough patches, but nothing that family can't handle. Tried to run away a couple of months after he got to the ranch, but those three men just tracked him down and then they all spent the night camping out in an abandoned cabin. George said Jim Littleshield told him old Arapaho ghost stories. His version of scaring the kid straight I guess."

"How about Elan Hand? He still seeing Lily?"

"He's in France right now," Callen said. "Took Soldier with him."

"Think he'll ever agree to go to work for Hetty?"

"He won't leave Soldier," Callen said, shaking his head. "Being a good father is more important to him than anything Hetty can offer."

"Lucky kid."

"He deserves it after the childhood his mother and the Freitas clan put him through."

The ring of both their cell phones cut off their conversation and Callen shot a worried look at him, so he reached over and squeezed his shoulder before answering.

"What's up, Nell?" Callen asked sharply.

"Hetty wants you both in Ops," Nell said in her no nonsense voice. "Now."

"Nell, is this..."

"Just get in here Callen," she ordered and ended the call.

"She's been taking Hetty pills again," Callen snapped. "It must be bad if she wouldn't tell me over the phone."

"Don't go there, G," Sam said firmly as he wheeled the Challenger around the line of cars and made an illegal left turn in front of oncoming traffic. After that Callen became sullen and cut off any attempt Sam made to ease his fears. By the time they got to the mission, Callen was not only agitated, but even more pissed off than before and he felt for whoever got in his way as he rushed inside and took the stairs to Ops two at a time. When the doors slid open Hetty stood alone, waiting for him.

"Is it Deeks? Is he dead?" Callen demanded, his eyes red rimmed as he tried to get control of himself.

"Why in the world would you think that, Mr. Callen?"

"Dammit Hetty...just tell me," he exploded, and Sam grabbed his arm as he took a step toward their boss.

"Mr. Deeks is very much alive, Mr. Callen, and I'm sorry if I caused you to think otherwise," she said softly as she clasped her hands in front of her. "But, he is at the hospital with Kensi, who suffered a badly broken leg during the final assault."

"Will she be alright?" Sam quickly asked as Callen let out a shaky breath.

"Yes, but that wasn't the sole reason I called you in, Mr. Callen," she replied.

Callen shot Sam a long and questioning look, before facing Hetty once again.

"What's going on, Hetty?" He asked.

"Joe Atwood has gone missing," she said quietly.

Callen looked as if he'd been slapped in the face and Sam gripped his shoulder and watched him carefully.

"I thought you would want to be the one to break the news to Mr. Deeks. He's exhausted right now, and worried about Kensi. You can decide if he's up to hearing the details."

"What are the details?" Sam asked, seeing that his partner still looked stunned by the news.

"There aren't many the FBI was willing to share," she said with exasperation. "He was on loan to another field office and I got the distinct impression that they have no idea where he is."

"What was he working on?" Callen asked tightly.

"They wouldn't tell me that," she replied. "Or what field office he'd been assigned to, but I sensed it was out of state."

"How'd you find out?" Sam asked with a deep frown.

"Roger Stinson called me," she said. "He's now the Executive Director of the FBI's National Security Branch. He knows how close the two men have become and thought Mr. Deeks should be told."

"You're telling me their own Executive Director doesn't know where his agent is?" Callen's voice was venomous. "How long has he been missing?"

"They lost track of him a week ago."

"And they have nothing?" Callen asked angrily. "Let me talk to his handler. They have to know something."

"You go deal with Mr. Deeks, and let me deal with the FBI," she said firmly.

"He's gonna want answers, Hetty," Callen said, his facade of control fracturing as he spoke.

"As I'm sure you do," she replied kindly. "I know you've grown close to Joe since Santa Fe. And I know this news isn't any easier for you than it will be for Mr. Deeks, but he'll need your strength, Mr. Callen."

"Have they told Diane?" He asked.

"Roger Stinson was handling that conversation," Hetty said.

"What about George? And Elan and..."

"Slow down, G," Sam urged. "Let's get to Deeks first."

"Yeah...You're right," Callen murmured.

"I'll keep you posted Mr. Callen," Hetty told him as he rushed out of Ops.

"I've never seen him this shaken," Sam said softly.

"Keep an eye on him, Sam. Deeks too," she replied. "If they lose Joe, it might just tear them apart."

"Or bring them closer together."

"This is all new to them...having brothers, a family...all of it," she said. "One never knows how a loss like this might affect such a newborn family. I'm not sure how Callen or Mr. Deeks will deal with the emotional impact this might cause."

"They haven't lost him yet, Hetty," Sam said. "And if I know anything, it's that those two will move heaven and earth to find Joe and bring him home. Never doubt that."

"They'll need your counsel, Sam," Hetty said as she walked him out. "They'll need a voice of reason, and someone who can help them keep their emotions in check. You're part of their brotherhood too, Sam. Don't forget that."

"Never have...never will."

...

Callen charged through the ER like a hurricane, gruff with whomever he spoke to, with Sam following in his wake, soothing ruffled feathers where he could. It had been a busy day in the city and the doctors and nurses were in no mood to put up with the demanding agent, so it was Sam who got real directions as to where their teammates might have ended up. When they finally saw the familiar mop of messy blond hair, Callen suddenly became calm, allowing all the breath he'd been holding to rush out, deflating before Sam's eyes.

Deeks was slouched in a blue plastic chair in a corner of the ER, his arms crossed over his chest, his head nodding in sleep and his long legs stretched out in front of him. Even with all the shouted demands for tests, calls for more blood, crash carts and the sad sounds of people in distress, he didn't move, continuing to sleep through all the craziness going on around him.

"Hetty wasn't exaggerating when she said he was exhausted," Sam said as the two men stood staring down at him.

They took in the obvious signs that the op he'd been on hadn't gone as planned. His t-shirt was filthy and stained with dried blood, and what appeared to be a handprint. He wore a bandage around his upper right arm and his jeans were coated in dust, the knees ripped, and his left pant leg streaked with blood.

"Deeks," Callen called out to him softly from a few steps away, knowing he might still be in tactical mode.

Getting no acknowledgement, he moved to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, and got an irritated grunt in response. When he shook him gently, Deeks mumbled something incoherent and then exploded awake, lurching to his feet and swinging wildly at Callen, his eyes wide and his expression fierce.

"Hey, kid, it's just me," Callen ducked away and caught his wrist before he could take another swing at him.

Deeks blinked sleepily at him and then flashed a soft, relieved grin and collapsed back into the chair, rubbing his hands over his face as he struggled to come fully awake. His left eye was ringed in lavender and there was a butterfly bandage on his forehead and his knuckles were badly scraped.

"Looks like you lost a couple of rounds to somebody, Deeks," Sam chided him with a smile.

"A building actually," he said, his smile gone. "The bastards had it rigged. Had to dig Kensi out of the rubble."

"How's she doing?" Callen asked, gently squeezing his shoulder.

"She was over there a minute ago," he looked confused as he pointed at the empty emergency bay, the floor cluttered with bloody gauze pads.

He was up and out of the chair in an instant, pushing between Callen and Sam as he shouted at a passing intern.

"Where's Agent Blye?" He demanded. "She was just here a few minutes ago."

"The brunette with the compound fracture?" The intern asked. "They took her up to surgery almost two hours ago."

"Two hours?"

Deeks stared numbly at the young man until Callen put an arm around him and steered him toward the elevators.

"They were supposed to come get me when they moved her," Deeks mumbled.

"The way you were snoring, they probably gave up trying to wake you," Sam said.

"How long since you slept?" Callen asked as they entered the elevator.

"Couple of days. The deal went down at three this morning and we got separated," he replied. "There was a firefight when the tactical squad breached the building. I got clipped in the arm by Kensi's mark...guess by then he'd figured out we weren't who we said we were..."

"Deeks? You okay?" Callen looked at him closely as he guided him out of the elevator.

"I screwed up, G," he said, his face now drawn with exhaustion and regret. "I shouldn't have let her out of my sight."

"Kensi can take care of herself. You know that," Sam said as they all settled into a grouping of chairs outside the recovery room.

"You couldn't have known the place was rigged," Callen said.

"We saw each other just before the place blew," he breathed out. "She was coming out of one of the back rooms...then the explosions started...one right after the other...and we all started running."

"They rigged it to blow in successive blasts," Sam commented.

"I'm glad you made it out okay," Callen said quietly.

"I couldn't find her..." He continued as if he hadn't heard, his voice choked with barely held tears. "I thought she was dead...till I heard her call my name. Her voice was so weak...it scared me. She was hit by a falling beam and buried in debris...seemed like it took forever to dig her free."

"But you got her out and she's gonna be all right," Sam said confidently. "I'll go see if I can get an update."

He stood quickly, looking pointedly at Callen and shook his head before turning toward the nurses' station.

"Looks like you could use some coffee, brother," Callen said, placing his hand gently on his shoulder. "Another quick nap won't hurt while I go find some."

"I wanted to tell you about the assignment, G," Deeks said, finally looking at him. "Hetty said no. Why do you think she did that?"

"Why does Hetty do anything?"

"That's a loaded question," he replied with a yawn. "Don't think I have an answer for that right now."

"I'll find us some coffee," Callen said anxiously as he stood up.

"I need to call Joe. He'll want to know I'm back," Deeks said, pulling his phone. "It's been over a month. You talk to him lately?"

"Don't call," Callen said.

"Why?"

"He's on assignment somewhere," Callen said as calmly as he could. "Out of state I think."

"How do you know that?" Deeks asked with surprise. "Did he call you? And why would he be out of state? He usually doesn't reveal assignments..."

"Slow down the interrogation, Agent Deeks," Callen said a little too sharply. "You rest. I'll bring coffee. Then we'll talk."

Deeks stared at him with a quizzical look on his face, and Callen turned away before Deeks could read the turmoil in his eyes. Since spending so much time together they had both learned to read each other pretty well. It was becoming harder to keep things from him, and now was not the time to tell him Joe was missing. He was having enough trouble dealing with the aftermath of almost losing Kensi.

"Callen? What's going on?"

Deeks' voice stopped him before he got too far and his shoulders sagged in defeat. He turned to see him standing, his expression intense and his eyes searching his own.

"Did something happen to Joe?"

Callen didn't answer and was thankful to see Sam come around the corner. His partner read the situation immediately and with a knowing look, walked quickly up to Deeks and took his arm.

"Kensi's in recovery. The nurse says you can sit with her," Sam told him. "She's waking up and she's gonna want to see that you're okay. Come on, Deeks. Don't make her worry."

"Yeah..no," he mumbled, running a hand through his tangled hair as Sam tried to pull him away.

Deeks looked back at Callen with a wounded look on his face that cut right through his heart. Images of Joe laughing as he tackled Deeks into a snow bank last Christmas tore at him and he dropped his head, unable to look at him. His own fear mingled with the need to keep the hurt from touching Deeks, but he knew it was too late for that. As exhausted as the kid was, he knew something was terribly wrong and all Callen could do at the moment was to comfort him. He reached him in three strides and wrapped him in a powerful hug, whispering out the news that he hoped wouldn't devastate the man he had come to call brother.

...

Joe had always thought of swamps as quiet places, secluded and empty of life, but now he knew just how wrong that was. The air sang with a discordant chorus of sounds, some he recognized and others he didn't. The low growls were disquieting in the darkness, while an occasional nerve wracking screech kept him just on the edge of screaming. Creatures moved through the undergrowth and fluttered high in the canopy of trees overhead, so he hadn't slept much, afraid some unwelcome guest might join him in his hiding place.

The men chasing him had given up hours ago because of the darkness, but their mention of bringing the dogs back at first light was a threat that never left his mind, keeping his stomach in knots. To distract himself, he slipped off his boots, checking on the painful cuts and bruises he had suffered on the march they had forced him to endure barefoot. The lack of socks had added blisters to the list of painful reminders of his capture, but at least the boots he'd taken from the dead guard fit him. He supposed he should be grateful for that. Stretching out his body, clammy with sweat, he closed his eyes and tried to ease the muscles that were cramping despite the breathlessly warm temperature.

He jerked awake, cursing himself for nodding off and slapped away an iridescent beetle crawling up his arm. As he struggled back into his wet boots, his mind drifted toward home, wondering if he would ever see his sweet little son again or hold his amazing wife in his arms. He knew the pain his disappearance would cause her and his family, especially his father, and he regretted the mistakes that had landed him here, but feeling sorry for himself would do him no good. Deeks' voice echoed in his head, telling him to get moving or he would kick his ass. The kid had survived some horrific times, never giving in to complete despair, fighting until the end and he could do no less. He would never forgive himself if he caused him pain, knowing what it felt like to lose a brother. A driving need to see all of his family again and make it back to his wife and son renewed his determination to survive. Cursing softly, he took a deep breath and forced himself to get up and move.

His weakened knee throbbed and he gasped as his broken ribs shifted, the slicing pain stealing away his breath, but he bit back a scream and crawled out from under the roots that had hidden him. With barely enough light to see, he stumbled through the thick undergrowth, his t-shirt catching and tearing as he forced his way through. The distant sound of barking dogs filled him with uncontrollable fear, and sent him splashing once again into the black water, hoping to throw them off his scent. He fought to control his erratic breathing as he waded into the deepening water, but the sudden heavy beating of wings startled him. He almost laughed out loud as a large brown pelican rose into the yellow sky, and headed north ahead of him. He decided it was a good omen, something his Arapaho ancestors might have sent to guide him and he began to swim.

...

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 2_

...

His mind was a jumble of memories, and he desperately sorted through them as if they were forgotten old photos he discovered in a box under the bed. He'd been curious about Joe from the beginning, when he'd caught him watching as he danced with Kensi in Al The Wop's in Locke. He and Kensi had been undercover tracking a Chinese arms dealer, and Joe was an undercover FBI agent doing surveillance on the same man, but neither one had known that at the time. There had just been something about him. He could see the innate intelligence in his eyes, the calculating way he surveyed the people in the room and it had made him suspect the man was more than he was pretending to be.

They'd started working together after Kensi and the team had been terribly wounded in an RPG attack by their suspect, who turned out to be a Chinese spy. It had been a lonely time for him. He'd felt isolated and unsure, full of fear for his partner, the woman lying wounded once again in front of him, and for the two men who were standing by his side now. When they'd discovered they were both Federal Agents, he found a kindness within Joe that balanced his more obvious toughness. And he was funny. Joe had been the person who had pulled him from a place of desolation and despair all those years ago, giving him guff when he needed it, making him laugh when he didn't feel he ever would again, fighting by his side and almost dying in the process. Joe had taken him home to his ranch in Wyoming when he was drowning in guilt, making him part of his family, and changing his life. Without Joe he never would have met George. Joe's father had become his father, a person he cherished beyond reason. Because of Joe he had a family to call his own and a home to go to when he needed to be reminded that there were still good people in the world, people who weren't out to steal or harm or kill. Now the man who became his brother might be lying dead somewhere, or wounded and alone and far from home, and it was taking every ounce of strength he had left to keep from screaming his name.

It was the barely perceived pressure from Kensi's fingers on his that pulled him away from his dark thoughts. He opened his eyes to search her face, looking for any sign that she was coming awake and might finally be able to assure him she was okay. He was still amazed she'd survived. Digging her free had been a nightmare, and it had taken him and four members of the tactical squad to lift the heavy beam off her leg. She had remained unconscious during the entire rescue, scaring him badly, so he desperately wanted to hear her voice and see recognition in her eyes when she looked at him.

"I think she's coming to," Callen squeezed his shoulder, the gesture much needed and comforting.

"Hey," he whispered when her eyes opened.

She blinked slowly and then gripped his hand and licked her dry lips, looking around warily as if she didn't know where she was.

"You're safe, Kens," he said softly. "We got the bad guys so nothing to worry about except getting better."

"They tried to blow us up," she choked out, her eyes flashing in anger.

"Almost did," he replied.

She looked quickly at him, her eyes roving over his body, slowly assessing what she saw as tears started in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah...I'm good."

"But I saw Alejandro shoot you," she said, straining to sit up.

"He was a lousy shot," Deeks laughed, showing off his tidy bandage. "I'm fine. You can ask Callen and Sam. I'm good...right guys?"

"As good as he ever gets," Sam sniped with a grin. "Still annoying."

"Wouldn't leave the ER. Made a nuisance of himself," Callen said quietly. "Even yelled at an intern."

She looked at each man in turn, as if trying to read them and Deeks quickly offered her some water, holding the plastic cup while she took a few sips through the straw.

"Something's wrong," she said. "How bad am I? What aren't you telling me?"

"You're gonna be fine Kens," Deeks assured her. "Concussion. Three broken ribs, and one very ugly compound fracture of your left leg. Almost threw up when I saw it...just so you know."

"Too much information, Deeks," Sam said.

"Then it's something else," she persisted. "You look sad."

Deeks hung his head and he felt Callen shift uncomfortably back and forth behind him. He didn't want to burden her with what had happened to Joe, but he also knew keeping it a secret from her wasn't an option. Not at this stage in their relationship.

They had become closer after Santa Fe, both making promises and clinging to each other as they rode out the aftermath, but their differences about their future never seemed to go away. Without thinking, he had strayed into a conversation about children at Christmas and had pushed her a little too hard on the timing, and she'd finally told him she was still "weighing her options". He had bristled at what he considered an irritating comment, worried that he might be one of those options she was reconsidering, and he'd stupidly kept on pushing. When the argument was over it left them on rocky ground they were still trying to navigate.

They had argued a lot during this operation, and she had accused him of being intransigent at one point and it had pissed him off, asking what the hell she meant, even though he knew the definition of the word. She had then cockily rattled off a string of synonyms to make it clearer, calling him bull-headed, mulish and pig-headed, using all the farm animals with great amusement. When he hadn't cracked a smile, she grew hesitant and then had refused to talk to him the rest of the day unless it was about the operation and he had been angry with her for that. When he'd seen her go down though, none of it had mattered. There was no future family for him without her. It was her he wanted to have a child with and he'd almost lost her. Now he might have lost the man who had shown him what a family could be and he began to shake as that realization finally hit him hard.

He stumbled to his feet and backed away, not wanting her to see him break down, not wanting her to think about anything other than recovering. He reached for the one man he knew would understand, pleading silently with Callen to get him through this moment, and it took him only a second to respond.

"They give you any pain pills?" Callen asked as he gripped his good arm and turned him toward the door so Kensi couldn't see his face.

"I don't remember," he replied, going with the play Callen was spinning.

"He hasn't slept in a couple of days," Kensi added. "And he hasn't been eating well either."

"Maybe we should have a doctor take another look at that gunshot wound," Sam said, picking up on what was happening. "Might be infected. You got a fever?"

"I'm fine...just feeling a little lightheaded is all," he whispered, unsure how much longer he could stand there without revealing to Kensi how devastated he was and why.

"Okay if Sam stays with you Kens?" Callen asked without releasing his grip on Deeks' arm. "I'll take your boyfriend here and get him some food and meds. He can come see you when you get in your room."

"He can be a little stubborn," she replied sleepily. "Just remind him I don't need as much protection as he thinks I do. So when you come back somebody better tell me what the hell is going on."

"Not sure she has a concussion," Sam said softly as he followed the two men out into the hall. "Sounds pretty damn sharp to me, especially for someone just coming to from surgery."

"Don't think you're gonna be able to keep this from her for long," Callen said as they headed back to the waiting area. "Are you listening? Deeks?"

He was lost in thought, searching through his recent conversations with Joe, trying to remember anything that he might have let slip about what case he was working. When Callen spoke his name, he looked over and saw the turmoil in his eyes and realized Joe's disappearance had rattled him too, something hard to do to a man with his experience. Deeks had always jealously guarded his relationship with Joe, even from Callen. It was a selfish act, especially now, considering the circumstances and how close the two men had become. He felt as if he were floundering in unknown waters, terribly afraid things would never be the same again if he lost Joe. He felt unsettled and he needed Callen to be the solid ground that might keep him from sinking into despair.

"Deeks. I'm here," Callen assured him, his blue eyes piercing with intensity. "You're not alone in this."

"I can't lose him, G."

"We'll find him together."

"Not without me you're not," Sam said, making it sound like a reprimand. "You two can't track a man like I can...especially in the dark."

"Is he bragging about being a SEAL again?" Deeks asked with a weary grin, feeling some of his tension ease.

"Nothing new there," Callen smirked. "We might have to take him along just in case we find Joe after the sun goes down."

"What the hell was he working on G?" Deeks couldn't stay seated and stood up, striding to the window to stare out at the parking lot below.

"FBI wasn't in the mood to share any details," he said quietly as he came up beside him. "Hetty is working on it."

"Have they told Diane?" Deeks asked, tears slightly muffling the words.

"Yeah."

"Can you drive me over there?" He asked. "I rode the ambulance in with Kensi."

"You think she called George?"

"It'll kill 'im if Joe is dead," he whispered.

He pressed the palms of his hands on either side of the narrow window and leaned his forehead against the cool glass, and finally let go of his tears.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Deeks," Sam urged as he squeezed the back of his neck. "There are lots of different reasons for him to go dark. Just focus and take it one step at a time, just like you would any other case."

"This isn't like any other case," Deeks roared as he shoved away from the wall and turned to confront Sam. "We might not be related by blood, but dammit Sam, he's my brother."

"And you're mine, Deeks," Sam reminded him. "Brothers in arms."

"Going off on each other is not going to get us anywhere," Callen said forcefully. "Call George. He needs to hear from you."

"What the hell do I tell him? I don't know anything," Deeks said, angrily choking on the words.

Callen wrapped an arm around him and patted him on the chest. "You need to hear his voice, as much as he needs to hear yours."

Deeks nodded and pulled his phone before running his hand through his hair as he tried to think of what he could possibly say. Joe had once shared with him his father's reaction after being told of his supposed death. He said he'd found George in the corner of Sheila's stall holding Boo in his lap, talking softly to the animals, and telling them stories about him. He had felt cherished after hearing that, and he wasn't even his real son. Joe was. How could he possibly comfort him if Joe was gone? There were no words that could soften that kind of news. There was only the stark reality that Joe was missing, and possibly dead, because if he wasn't he would have found a way to let them know.

"He would have let us know, G," Repeating his thoughts quietly.

"If he could, yeah," Callen replied. "But sometimes that isn't possible. You know that. Doesn't mean you give up. Doesn't mean he's dead either. You weren't, and there's no evidence that says he is, so call Diane and George. Then let's go find your dumbass brother."

Deeks grinned at the familiar nickname Joe used so often and nodded again and turned back toward the window. Staring blindly out into the pale sky, he waited for Diane to answer. He tried to remind himself she was a strong woman, but she'd never gotten this kind of news before, so he had no idea what kind of reaction to prepare for.

'Who's calling?' A male voice answered.

"This is Marty Deeks, and I'm calling for Diane Atwood," he replied, shooting a confused look at Callen. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Agent Aaron Slater with the FBI and Mrs. Atwood can't talk to you right now," the man said, sounding irritated and abrupt.

"Hey, man...Joe Atwood's my brother and I'm an agent with NCIS," he said, quickly putting the phone on speaker. "Please... I need to talk to her."

"His records show one brother, now deceased," the man replied. "So whatever your game is, I'm not buying."

"Listen Agent Slater, just ask Diane," he said, trying to remain calm. "She'll explain it to you."

"Sorry, but Mrs. Atwood is being taken in for questioning," Slater replied.

"What? Why?"

"Sorry, but I can't tell you that," the agent replied. "It's a matter of National Security."

"What about Chris? Her little boy...is she taking him with her?" Deeks was closed to panicking now.

"He's being turned over to Family Services until further notice," the man said coldly.

"The hell he is," Deeks raged. "He's two and I'm his uncle. Give me twenty minutes and I'll be there to pick him up."

"Like I said...we have no record of your relationship with this family, so that's not happening."

"You do know Roger Stinson, don't you Agent Slater?" Callen interjected. "Executive Director of the FBI's National Security Branch? Sound familiar?"

"And who might you be? Another so-called brother?" Slater sneered.

"I'm Special Agent Callen. Office of Special Projects...NCIS," he replied sharply. "Director Stinson called my Operations Manager this morning to inform her of Agent Joe Atwood's disappearance. He did that so she could inform Agent Deeks, who for your information used to be one of his agents...a decorated one. Oh, and just so you know...I think of Joe Atwood as my brother too."

"Deeks? Go," Sam said urgently as he handed him the keys to the Charger. "Get over there as fast as you can. I called Michelle. She's on her way to meet you. She'll look after little Chris while we figure this out."

"What the hell is going on, Sam?"

"I don't know, but I called Hetty. Don't worry. She'll find out."

Deeks bolted for the elevator and then stopped abruptly and turned back, remembering that Kensi had no idea what had happened.

"I'll stay with Kensi, and fill her in," Sam said calmly. "She'll understand why you had to go."

"Thanks, Sam."

"Wait for me, kid," Callen called out. "You'll need backup if that guy is the one handling Joe's disappearance. I'll deal with him while you try and talk to Diane."

A sense of calm flooded through Deeks when he saw the determination on Callen's face when he slapped him lightly on the back and followed him into the elevator. He was grateful for the support, which he had come to rely on more and more, and that he desperately needed right now. His body was slowly giving in to exhaustion and his thought process was becoming more and more muddled as each new challenge piled one on top of the other. There was something he was missing, but he wasn't sharp enough to grasp what it was.

"Why question Di? It doesn't make any sense," Deeks finally said. "What do they think she knows? If she knew where Joe was she'd tell them."

"I don't know, but taking her in doesn't sound good," Callen replied. "They have to suspect her of something, but I can't think of what it might be."

"She's gonna be scared and really pissed if that dickhead told her they were handing Chris over to Family Services."

"If he did I'm sure he got an earful," Callen laughed. "She swears better than Joe."

"You think they'll let me take Chris?" Deeks asked as they rushed out of the elevator. "Slater knows I'm not really family."

"Diane still has rights, and Chris is her son," Callen reasoned. "I don't think Slater cares about him...probably just sees him as a bargaining chip to use against Di."

"The sonofabitch," Deeks growled.

"Try and keep it together when we get there," Callen cautioned.

"Think I can't handle myself?" He snapped, instantly taking offense.

"I think you're running on adrenaline. You're hurting and confused about all this and you are beyond angry," Callen said as he settled in behind the wheel of the Challenger. "But that doesn't mean I don't think you can handle yourself. Just don't punch the nice FBI man in the face. It might feel good, but it won't help."

"Not sure I have the energy to punch the bastard," Deeks conceded. "But I'll take odds on Diane."

"I'll take odds on Michelle," Callen laughed as he wheeled into traffic and floored it. "Slater won't have a chance if he pisses off Michelle."

The rest of the wild ride was made in silence, Deeks absentmindedly picking at the bandage on his arm as his mind drifted back to Wyoming. If he was being honest with himself, he was afraid to call George. Telling the man his son had been missing for a week would hurt him and that was the last thing Deeks wanted. He didn't think he could bear hearing the pain and resignation in his voice. He had to be able to give him some sort of hope that Joe was still alive, and right now he didn't have any.

"Looks like Slater thought he might need lots of backup," Callen smirked as he parked behind two, big black SUVs. "Diane have a reputation I don't know about?"

"What the hell is this about, G?"

"More than a missing agent," Callen replied as he trotted up to the front door of the Atwood house.

Two agents dressed in grey suits and dark ties stepped forward and stopped them at the door. Both men stared disapprovingly at Deeks' tattered state of dress, one even putting his hand on his weapon.

"We're Federal Agents, boys," Callen said, showing his badge and nodding at Deeks as he showed his. "Just got off the phone with Agent Slater. We're friends of the family and here to pick up the little boy."

"Names?"

"Agents Callen and Deeks."

"I have orders to keep both of you out of the house," one man responded.

"Why the hell is that?" Deeks asked, struggling to hold onto his temper.

"Agent Slater doesn't believe you're who you say you are," the tall skinny black agent replied.

"Having trouble reading the fine print on my credentials?" Callen asked, his eyes boring into the man.

"Looks like your friend here spent the night on the streets," The burly agent with an unfortunate buzz cut said, looking with obvious disapproval at Deeks. "You expect us to believe this guy's an agent?"

Callen answered quickly, putting an arm across Deeks' chest as he took a step toward the man. "This really has nothing to do with your belief system. That badge he's holding has his picture and name on it. In big letters. Now step aside."

Deeks finally lost his patience and tried to push past the two men, but the burly one grabbed his wounded arm, causing a sudden rush of pain that made him dizzy. He groaned as his knees started to buckle and he stumbled against the doorframe. Callen pushed the agent off of him, and wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him on his feet. The other agent got a hold on Callen's jacket and a shoving match ensued, with Deeks loudly cursing the men.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

A baldheaded man with a wide face and dark, piercing eyes stepped out and demanded order. The two agents backed away immediately and started accusing Deeks of attacking them.

"You the NCIS agent I spoke with?" Slater asked, raising his hand to silence his men.

"I'm Callen and this is Agent Deeks. Office of Special Projects," he said as he helped Deeks lean back against the wall to catch his breath.

"Really?" The man replied haughtily, his tone full of distaste, as he looked Deeks over. "NCIS lower their standards recently?"

"Not that he needs defending, but he just came off of an undercover assignment. He was wounded," Callen replied in a measured tone. "He's been at the hospital with his partner who just came out of surgery. The remaining details are classified."

"Sorry I didn't have time to dress to your standards," Deeks added, not shielding his anger from the man as he stood and faced him. "Now, I want to see Diane Atwood."

"Like I said over the phone, that's simply not happening," Slater said coldly. "This is an FBI case and I will not allow you to tamper with a suspect."

"A suspect in what?" Deeks asked, suddenly more afraid then he had been. "Her husband's missing. You think she kidnapped her own husband?"

"What I think is none of your business," Slater said, sounding bored. "Now if you'll excuse me I have an interview to conduct."

"Is Mrs. Atwood under arrest?" Callen asked as the man stepped back inside the doorway.

"Not at this time," the man said. "But she is a person of interest."

"In what?" Deeks angrily demanded.

"As I said before...it's a matter of National Security," Slater said with obvious irritation.

"Then let me take her son with me," Deeks said. "I'm gonna go ahead and assume he's not a suspect."

"You're not a blood relation to the boy, so you have no standing in a court of law," the agent replied smugly.

"I'm a lawyer, asshole," Deeks stormed. "And we're not in a court of law. You haven't charged her with anything, and Mrs. Atwood has the right to make provisions for her son while you question her."

"Unless you're trying to intimidate her by terrorizing her two-year-old," Callen accused, his eyes flashing with intensity.

The man glared at Callen and was about to close the door on them when little Christopher Atwood wedged his way past the man's legs holding a stuffed pony by the tail. He looked up at all the tall men in front of him, his expression uncertain until he saw Deeks.

"Unca Marty," he giggled, smiling widely as he held his arms out to be picked up.

Deeks dropped to one knee and pulled the little boy to him, brushing back his tangled brown curls and kissing him gently on the forehead.

"You okay, buddy?" He whispered, tears blurring his vision.

"Mommy's mad," he said and wrapped his arms around Deeks' neck.

"I bet she is," he said softly, lifting the little boy up his arms as he stood to confront the disconcerted FBI agent. "You ever met Joe Atwood, Slater?"

"No."

"Just a word of warning," Deeks said sullenly. "When you do meet him, don't let him find out how you treated his wife and especially his son. He can be a little sensitive about his family. Because if you think Mrs. Atwood is tough to deal with when she's mad, then I'd advise you not to be in the same room with Joe when he finds out you threatened his baby boy to scare the shit out of his wife."

"I'm not afraid of Joe Atwood," The agent said icily. "The man's a traitor and with any luck he's dead by now, so take the kid and get the hell out of here. I have a case to build."

"You lying sonofabitch," Deeks shouted, scaring Chris who began to cry.

"Deeks...keep it together," Callen implored him. "For the boy's sake."

"Callen? What's happening?" Michelle walked up with her badge held out in front of her.

"The FBI is claiming Joe is a traitor," he told her as Slater glared at both of them.

"He threatened to put Chris in the system unless Diane tells him what he wants to hear," Deeks said as he tried to calm his nephew.

"You called in the CIA?" Slater asked, finally looking a little nervous. "This is still my case."

"We'll see about that Agent Slater," Roger Stinson called out as he hurried up the walk with Hetty right behind. "Now, shall we take this discussion inside? I don't think this little confrontation is something we want the neighbors to see."

"Director, these men have been interfering with a Federal investigation," Slater stated boldly. "And the one with the stringy hair and filthy clothes threatened me."

"Inside Slater...now," the Director ordered gruffly, ushering in the women before leading a parade of everyone else inside except the agents guarding the door.

"Looks like you survived a pretty rough case, Deeks," Stinson said, ignoring Slater as he walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly at little Chris. "How's your partner?"

"Got caught in the explosion when the bad guys blew the building," he replied shakily. "She's got the usual headache, some broken ribs and a compound fracture."

"And you?"

"Sonofa...gun shot me," catching himself as Michelle came over to take Chris who yawned and sniffled back tears.

"You look pretty ragged," Stinson said kindly. "Better sit down before you fall down. Hetty won't let me hear the end of it if that happens."

"Very true, Roger," Hetty said as she walked up to face Agent Slater. "And I hope your agents have been treating my men with the respect they deserve."

"Are you their mother or something?" Slater snapped.

"Watch your mouth, Agent Slater," Roger Stinson stated sharply. "This is Henrietta Lange, Operations Manager of the Office of Special Projects of NCIS. She's not a person you want to mess with. Actually, none of the people in front of you are to be messed with. Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course sir, but that one lied to me," Slater stated, pointing an accusing finger at Deeks. "Claimed to be Atwood's brother...and look at him sir. It's a disgrace someone made the man a Federal agent."

"My, my Agent Slater, you're quite full of yourself aren't you," Hetty said with a tiny laugh. "You just managed to insult two people who could end your career if they had a mind to. I made Mr. Deeks an agent because he earned it, and your Executive Director stole him from me for a short time and made him an FBI agent because he is excellent at his job. And if you had a modicum of skills you would have checked his record, which, it seems, you didn't bother to do."

"Deeks and Joe Atwood broke a case together that brought down a Chinese spy, and almost died doing it," Stinson informed the man harshly. "They were both given Congressional commendations for it. So don't use the word disgrace when you talk about either one of them, or I'll kick your ass out on the street."

"But sir, we have it on good authority that Joe Atwood is a traitor," Slater stubbornly continued.

"Whoever told you that is a lying sack of shit," Diane said angrily as she charged into the living room, an embarrassed FBI agent on her tail. "Now where's my son?"

"Di, are you okay?" Deeks asked, jumping to his feet and pulling her to him as she frantically searched the room for Chris.

Michelle quickly brought the little boy to her and she finally broke down, sobbing as she hugged Chris tightly, kissing the top of his head as she leaned into Deeks' arms.

The agent she had eluded tried to pull her away, but Michelle put a hand on his chest and gave him a warning look. "Back off before you find yourself singing falsetto."

"Stand down, agent," Stinson commanded. "You can thank me later."

"Mommy," Chris said. "Unca Marty has a booboo."

"Thank God you're here, Marty. Are you all right?" Diane asked softly, gently touching the cut on his forehead.

"You've got more to worry about than me."

"You know Joe's missing then. Slater told me he might be dead...but he can't be...he just can't be. You know how tough he is. Please find him for us, Marty...please. I don't know what I'd do without him and Chris needs his daddy.

"We'll bring him home to you both."

"Don't trust these guys," Diane whispered. "Whoever accused Joe of being a traitor works for the FBI."

...

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 3_

...

He was completely drained of energy, his arms heavy, and his feet practically numb. He could feel each breath that left his body and his eyelids drooped in the still darkness of the bedroom. The faint, lilting sound of the lullaby Diane was singing to little Christopher was luring him toward sleep, and he struggled with the urge to succumb. He didn't notice when the sound stopped, feeling only the touch of her warm hand on his arm when she woke him.

"Sorry, but we need to call George," she said, sitting down beside him on the small love seat in the baby's room. "Slater wouldn't let me call until I answered all his questions. The prick."

"You're being nice," Deeks said, yawning as he tousled his hair and sat up.

"Do you think Joe's still alive?" Her voice sounded small and wavered as her tears started.

"I want to believe he is. I can't picture my life without him in it," Deeks said sadly. "But honestly...I don't know."

He reached for her hand, gripping it tightly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She was trembling and he gave her the comfort she needed, holding her as she let go and simply cried for the man they both loved.

"Did Slater give you any idea where they sent him on this assignment?" He asked quietly as she wiped her tears with a crumpled tissue.

"I kept asking him that, but he never answered me," she said. "Just kept asking over and over if Joe had been in contact with me, and what he'd told me about the case and the people involved. When I told him we never discussed his cases, he didn't believe me. Marty, he laughed and threatened to take Chris away from me. Can he do that?"

"We're not gonna let that happen, Di," Deeks promised, his temper rising at the thought of it. "What else did he ask about?"

"The idiot wanted to know if we have any off-shore bank accounts," she said quietly. "I thought he was joking and told him so. Then he said I could be prosecuted for lying to a Federal Agent and that I would lose my parental rights. That's when I finally lost it."

"I'm sorry he threatened you like that," Deeks said. "He has no evidence that you lied or he would have already arrested you."

"I'm scared, Marty," she whispered.

"I know you are. I'm here for you, Sissy," he promised. "I'll do everything I can to help you. All of us will."

"You can help me by finding Joe," she said angrily. "He's alive, Marty. I can feel it. You have to believe he's out there somewhere fighting to get back to us."

"You're right. He is one tough cowboy," Deeks smiled at her stubborn faith in her husband. "Now, what else did Slater ask about?"

"He wanted to know if Joe had any dealings with people who weren't military when he was in Afghanistan," she said slowly. "And if he was still in contact with them."

"That was a long time ago," confused and worried by the odd question. "Did he say why they believe Joe's a traitor?"

"He told me they have evidence from an impeccable source within the FBI that proves Joe is working with terrorists," she choked on the last chilling word, her eyes brimming with tears. "This is Joe...the most honest, most loyal man I've ever known. He's a decorated agent and soldier. He's bled for this country. How can they believe he would turn against it?"

Deeks' phone buzzed before he could offer any words of comfort. It was George, and he sensed his world spinning out of control.

"Marty? What's happened to Joe?" His voice was deep and heavy with worry. "I've got FBI agents searching the ranch for him. What's going on? They won't tell me."

"They won't tell me either," he said, his stomach churning with anxiety and fresh fear.

"Can you get to Diane? She'll need you," George sounded shaken, his voice rough as if he'd been shouting.

"I'm with her right now. The FBI is here at the house," he answered, cording his fingers down through his hair as he spoke. "They're questioning her, and..."

"Is she all right? How's my grandson?" George asked sharply.

"For now they're both fine, but the FBI is claiming Diane's a person of interest in an ongoing investigation."

"Into Joe?"

"Promise me you won't go all wild west on the FBI agents in your living room. It will only hurt Joe if you do," Deeks pleaded.

"Tell me what you can, son."

"Joe was on assignment somewhere out of state and has been out of contact for a week," Deeks replied solemnly. "Nobody knows where he is, and..."

"I kinda figured that, son," George said gently as Deeks hesitated. "But, that doesn't explain why they're tearing up my barn and questioning Diane. What's really going on? How much trouble is Joe in?"

"Joe is being accused of treason."

The returning silence scared him. George always knew what to say. He could calm an emotional situation with simple words that cut to the heart of any problem, but not this time and it was gut wrenching when he didn't respond.

"George?"

"I'm coming to you, son. I'll be there as soon as I can," his strangled voice tearing at the thin fabric of Deeks' remaining strength.

When the phone went dead, Deeks leaned back and stared at the ceiling, his emotions mixed.

"How'd he take it?" Di asked softly.

"Real quiet, which means he's really pissed. He's coming to LA," Deeks replied. "Federal agents are searching for Joe at the ranch."

"They're hunting him like he's a criminal," her voice full of anguish.

"If they're searching the ranch, then they think he's still alive," Deeks said in a rush and pushed himself up off the couch. "Slater was just trying to scare you when he told you Joe was probably dead. If you believed him, then you might give up the information he thinks you have."

"But if they find him they might shoot him," she said, looking panicked.

"Not if I find him first," he said, pulling her into a hug. "Don't say anything else to Slater, no matter what he threatens you with. Remember what he asks about and cull every bit of information you can from him about Joe's assignment, especially a location. Michelle will look after Chris until George gets here. Let her know whatever you find out. She'll get it to me."

"You want me to interrogate an FBI agent?"

"He's arrogant," Deeks replied. "Just get him to brag about what he knows. Remember the time you got Joe to let slip what he got you for your anniversary? He was so proud of himself he couldn't shut up."

"You make it sound like a game," she said, smiling sadly with tears in her eyes.

"Kinda is. Ever play Clue? The more clues we get the faster I find Joe," he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead before turning toward the door.

"Joe always said you were the best partner he ever had," she said. "I know you'll find him."

"That's the plan."

"Marty? Please don't let him get killed..."

He got to her as she broke down and wrapped her in a tight hug, trying to give her the comfort she so desperately needed. They had become quite close after the events in Santa Fe the past year, insisting he stay with them when he got home so she could take care of him, offering the same to Kensi. She had badgered him till he'd agreed, nursing them both, scolding him especially when he overdid a workout trying to get back in shape. Her expertise as a massage therapist helped when he did. She took none of his bullshit or his attempts to get his way by flirting just a little or appealing to her motherly instincts. She would laugh at his weak attempts to sway her and tell him she already had a baby and that she had grown up with brothers, and warned him she knew all the tricks brothers could pull. He began calling her Sissy after that, teasing her endlessly with assorted variations of that name until he realized she really was the sister he never had. He often sought her opinion and they'd had long talks about his relationship with Kensi. Her advice wasn't always what he wanted to hear, but he appreciated her perspective and her honesty. Now he felt nothing but anger that she had been subjected to such terrible threats in a rough interrogation by the bastard in the other room. He knew it's what you did with suspects to get them to talk. He had done it himself. But Diane was family and he knew it probably wasn't going to get any easier for her until they could prove the allegations against Joe were wrong.

A soft knock at the door made them pull apart and he turned to see Callen poke his head in, his eyes flashing with irritation. When he stepped inside and closed the door, Deeks felt his gut twist as he tried to prepare himself for bad news.

"Did they find him?" Diane asked nervously.

"No...And Director Stinson is allowing the investigation to continue."

"Dammit! He knows Joe," Deeks said vehemently. "Did he say why?"

"No, but he's been on the phone with somebody, and apparently the man convinced him Joe has gone over to the dark side."

"Bullshit! What evidence does he have?" Deeks asked angrily.

"Supposedly reliable intel from somebody in the field," Callen said with resignation.

"He's lying..." Diane cried out. "You believe that don't you Callen?"

"Of course I do," Callen replied softly. "But, they want to take you downtown for more questioning and there was nothing either Hetty or I could do to stop it. I'm sorry."

"Remember what I said," Deeks said. "Remember everything they ask about. You're our inside man...woman. You can do this, Sis."

"They're taking your computer and searching for additional phones," Callen told her. "When they let you come back here, don't use the land line. It'll be bugged. The house too, so watch what you say. Use Michelle's phone if you need to call your family or check in with us."

"Is Michelle staying?" Deeks asked.

"Yeah. Slater tried to order her to leave, and you can probably guess how that went. She gave him the death glare and told him to make her if he thought he was man enough," Callen smiled. "He left her alone after that."

"So he's not as stupid as he looks," Deeks said with a weary grin.

"Is Christopher safe? Are they letting my little boy stay home?" Di asked.

"Hetty was very insistent about that, and Stinson agreed," Callen replied.

"George called. They're at the ranch G," Deeks said softly.

"So they must think he's alive and on the run," Callen said. "Running will only make him look guilty."

"If he's running he has a reason."

"Maybe he doesn't trust them anymore," Di said, making both men smile and look over at her.

"You're starting to sound like an agent," Callen smirked.

"She's right. Someone turned on him, maybe blew his cover, and now he's not sure who he can trust. That's why he's running," Deeks was getting increasingly anxious and angry. "I'm going out to talk to Roger Stinson. See if he'll tell me Joe's last location."

"Well, you better get him alone when you do it," Callen urged. "I don't trust Slater, and Hetty doesn't either."

Deeks took a deep breath and smiled briefly at Diane before opening the door to the living room. The three of them were greeted by Slater, who looked a little too smug as he motioned two tactical agents forward and told them to take Diane downtown. Deeks stole a look at Hetty, trying to read her response to the actions taking place, and she gave him a small enigmatic smile he wasn't sure how to take. Roger Stinson looked sadly at Diane as she passed him and Deeks hoped he was sorry enough that he would share some needed information. He felt empty and completely helpless, his anger dissipating as exhaustion slowly drained his remaining energy.

Before each case that would take him away from his family, Joe would call and ask him to watch over his wife and son. He knew he didn't have to, but it became routine for them, a way to touch base before being separated by the assignment, to solidify their closeness and faith in one another. This time there had been no call, because he'd been away on his own undercover assignment. As he watched Diane being taken away, he felt he had let Joe down and his head dropped as he searched for the strength to deal with Stinson. Callen's gentle squeeze of his shoulder made him turn and look into those intelligent blue eyes, seeing understanding and the support he needed, and his heart surged with the knowledge that he wasn't alone.

"Mr. Callen, please drive Mr. Deeks to the boat shed," Hetty ordered in a clipped tone as she headed for the door. "I need to debrief him on his current case."

"Can it wait, Hetty? I was hoping to speak with Director Stinson," Deeks asked, somewhat confused by her tone.

"That was an order, Mr. Deeks," she said sharply. "I'm sure the FBI will keep us apprised of Joe Atwood's situation."

"But Hetty..." He was bewildered by her coldness and turned to face Stinson as he prepared to leave as well. "Director, please...I just need to talk to you for a minute. You have to know this is a false accusation. You know Joe. He almost died taking down that Chinese spy. He told me you were there when he came out of surgery. How can you believe these charges?"

"This is not the time, Deeks. Right now, I have other pressing matters to attend to," Stinson said and turned to follow Hetty out.

"Come on Deeks," Callen said softly. "We can talk in the car."

"Listen to your superiors, Agent Deeks. They actually understand protocol," Slater said, his condescension obvious. "Your so-called brother will be caught and arrested for the traitor that he is and anyone getting in the way of that happening will be prosecuted right along with him."

"Is that a threat?"

"If you get between me and Joe Atwood, it's a promise," the agent said.

"If you get anywhere near him, he'll kick your ass," Deeks snapped. "He's ten times the man you are."

"And a coward who betrayed his country."

Deeks lunged for the agent, but Callen anticipated the move and wrapped his arms around him to stop him. He resisted briefly, but the warning look on Callen's face made him think better of it and he backed down.

"Attacking a Federal Agent won't look too good on your resume when you're looking for a new job," Slater laughed. "Keep him on a tight leash Agent Callen, or you'll have two so-called brothers in a world of hurt."

"Walk away, Slater," Callen turned to face him. "You might intimidate the mother of a two-year-old, but your posturing is getting a little old, so go do your job instead of trying to play the big, bad FBI agent. You're not scaring anyone."

"You heard the man...go," Michelle said loudly as she stepped up next to Callen. "You're no longer welcome here. Not that you ever were."

"Looks like you've been taking too many steroids, lady. And I'm being generous with the description," Slater snarled.

"What did you just say to my wife?" Sam thundered as he walked in the open front door.

Slater actually turned slightly pale as he took a step back, nervously adjusting his ugly blue tie and trying to maintain his composure.

"Meet Sam Hanna, ex-Navy SEAL," Deeks said, finally able to smile. "Looks like Agent Slater is as dumb as he looks, G."

"This might be a good time to leave, Slater," Callen smirked. "Putting a leash on Sam gets a little tricky when he's this mad."

The man glared at them all, but hurried past them, slamming the door behind him.

"Who the hell was that?" Sam demanded.

"The man trying to track down Joe," Deeks said.

"Don't think he likes us much," Callen stated.

"Did he tell you anything?" Sam asked.

"They're saying Joe's a traitor," Deeks' voice broke at the end and he sank wearily into the nearest chair.

"What?" Sam looked stunned.

"Claim he's working with terrorists," Michelle confirmed.

"Joe Atwood?"

"Even Director Stinson believes it," Deeks said, and ran a hand down his face as he tried to make sense of it all. "What did you tell Kensi?"

"Only that he had missed his last couple of check-ins," he told him. "She wants you to come by tonight and give her the details."

"I would if I had any," he replied. "How is she?"

"Worried about you," he said. "She's on heavy meds so sleeping right now. But you better go see her tonight if you can. She made me promise."

Callen's phone rang and he looked annoyed as he listened to whoever had called. He stared at Deeks, his face closed off and distant, and Deeks knew he wasn't happy.

"Hetty wants you in the boat shed, and said not to keep her waiting," Callen said as he pocketed his phone.

"She's not gonna let me look for Joe is she?" Deeks said, finding it hard to control his temper at what he considered a betrayal.

"She didn't say that," Callen said as he reached out a hand to help him up from the chair. "But something's going on she wasn't willing to share earlier."

"Big ears, Callen," Michelle whispered.

No one said another word, taking in her warning about bugs. Sam picked up a notepad by the phone and wrote that he would find all the listening devices while they were gone, then pulled Deeks in for a quick hug. The big man could have no idea how much it meant to have his support, especially now that he was uncertain about Hetty's. He headed out the door behind Callen, surprised by the glowing orange sky as the sun settled into the sea. He had been on his feet for three days now, and he rubbed at his eyes, groaning as he sunk uncomfortably into the shotgun seat.

"I'll quit if I have to," he said softly after they'd been driving for a while.

"I know."

"He's all alone out there, G," Deeks said. "I know what that feels like."

"So do I," Callen replied. "But you're not alone in this, kid, so don't even think about going off on your own."

"You mean go rogue, like you like to do?"

"Smart ass."

"Pushy old guy."

"Annoying, cocky knucklehead."

"He's in deep trouble isn't he?" Deeks sighed, feeling heartsick at the reality of it.

"Yeah, he is."

"Gonna give me a pep talk?"

"That's Sam's job."

"Might need one after I talk to Hetty."

"Me too."

It was almost dark when they pulled up in front of the boat shed, the air still warm, but offering no solace from the cold emptiness he was feeling. He'd expected her to help, but now he wasn't sure what game she was playing. Callen rested a firm hand at the base of his neck as he pushed through the door, stopping abruptly when he saw who sat with her at the table.

"Sorry for the deception," Roger Stinson said calmly. "But, what I'm about to tell you is highly classified, and above Agent Slater's pay grade. Yours too, for that matter, but I've been authorized to bring you both in on what is a major national security issue."

"Please sit down, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said kindly. "You really do look exhausted."

"Is Joe dead?" He gripped the edge of the table, knowing he wouldn't be able to stay standing if it were true.

"We don't think so," Stinson said.

"That why you sent men to search his father's ranch in Wyoming?" Callen asked, somewhat surly.

"We're letting that part of the investigation continue for reasons I'll get to eventually," Stinson replied.

"Do you know where he is?" Callen asked as Deeks lowered himself into one of the chairs.

"Somewhere in Louisiana," he replied, opening a file folder in front of him.

"What the hell is he doing in Louisiana?" Deeks asked.

"His assignment came out of Washington and directly from the head of the National Joint Terrorism Task Force," Stinson continued. "As you know, we have over a hundred Terrorism Task Forces across the United States utilizing local, state and federal agencies..."

"Agent Hanna served locally a few years ago, so we are quite familiar with their regional function," Hetty interrupted. "So why was Agent Atwood sent cross country to serve on one in Louisiana?"

"He wasn't," he replied tightly. "We have reason to believe that particular task force has been compromised and that someone high up in the organization is aiding a terrorist sleeper cell that is being supported by a local militia group."

"You sent him in to infiltrate the militia group," Callen breathed out. "And you needed someone no one on the task force would know and with no local ties."

"Joe has garnered quite a reputation for undercover work since he and Deeks took down Lee Chao and discovered that Chinese spy ship," Stinson looked rather proud as he spoke. "We needed someone beyond reproach and his name came up."

"So now you've labeled him a traitor?" Deeks lashed out, standing suddenly and knocking his chair over.

"Control yourself, Mr. Deeks," Hetty demanded as Callen tried to restrain him.

"Who knew he was FBI?" Callen asked with his hand planted firmly on Deeks' chest. "He had to have a contact within the task force. Who was his handler?"

"You don't need to know that," Stinson replied.

"Well we damn well need to know a lot more than what you've given us, if you're asking for our help," Hetty said forcefully, getting everyone's attention.

"What kind of help are you asking for?" Callen asked curiously, looking quickly at Deeks.

"We want you to find him."

"You mean before that asshole, Slater finds him and has him shot?" Deeks raged.

"I understand your frustration Deeks, but you and I both know Slater doesn't have a chance in hell of finding Joe," Stinson said with a slight smile.

"He's got a point, brother," Callen smirked.

"What he has to do is explain why he put Joe's family through hell," Deeks shot back at Stinson. "You let that happen and now you expect me to just forget about it? Diane was crying in my arms because your agent threatened to take her little boy away from her. His father is scared to death he's lost another son...a son you've branded as a traitor to his country. Why would you do that to a man like Joe?"

"Actually, we thought it would keep him alive," Stinson replied softly.

"He discovered the real traitor," Hetty said.

"Yes," he replied simply. "The task force was told he was an FBI agent working with the terrorists hoping the real mole might contact him. Which he did."

"Then why is Joe the one running for his life?" Deeks asked, collapsing back into the righted chair.

"Because before we could move on his information, someone blew his cover to the militiamen," Stinson told them sadly. "And we have no idea who that was."

"Was it the mole?" Deeks asked.

"We don't think so," Stinson said, shaking his head sadly. "It's somebody else."

"And you have no clue who that is," Deeks stated, trembling with barely held anger.

"Mr. Deeks...right now you don't have to know who it is," Hetty told him quietly. "You only have to find Joe and bring him home. But first, you need to sleep."

"How can I when Joe is being hunted?"

"Because you need to be sharp, and right now you're edgy and dead on your feet," Callen said. "So no arguments. I'm taking you home. We'll get the details we need in the morning."

"What about Diane? And George? He'll be coming in tonight," Deeks questioned wearily as he stood up.

"I've already ordered Agent Slater to release Mrs. Atwood and get her home," Stinson informed him. "But you can't tell her or Joe's father about this operation."

"We already told her we're going after Joe," Deeks said.

"They can't know it's an official op," Hetty said. "We'll have to make it look as if you're going rogue."

"That won't surprise anybody," Deeks grinned.

"But it might piss off Kensi," Callen said with a knowing tilt of his head.

"Can you take me by the hospital first?" Deeks asked. "I need to let her know what's going on."

"Sure, brother," he replied, throwing an arm across his shoulder and pulling him toward the door.

...

Weariness made it seem as if he were floating, wishing for a gust of wind to push him forward down the dimly lit hall towards her room. He stopped and pressed his hand against the smooth wall, savoring the moment of being alone. There was a hush, a quietness after visiting hours were long over, giving him time to order his thoughts, thoughts that flittered through his mind and filled the emptiness the day had showered down on him.

She lay just beyond the door. The woman he loved. The woman who filled his life with meaning, the one who had frightened him so badly early in a day filled with uncontrollable happenings. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut it all out, trying not to hear her whimpering as they'd dug her free, trying not to think about a beloved brother so desperately alone, hunted by the people he had always trusted and by those he never had.

"God, I'm tired."

The whispered words sounded like an excuse he wasn't worthy of. Two people he loved had suffered while he'd been left standing. How was that fair? How had this life they'd all chosen ever been fair? It wasn't about fairness; it was about going on in spite of the lack of it. He was familiar with that. No matter how tired, no matter how rough the road ahead would be, he was grateful for the wisp of hope he'd been given. The woman he loved had survived. The brother he loved was out there somewhere trying to.

He pushed the heavy door open, allowing a sliver of dull light into the darkened room, highlighting the soft curves of her body. He followed it in, holding his breath as he took in the swirl of her hair covering the white pillow, and searching her face for signs of pain. Her arm lay across her body, her hand resting between her breasts and it made him smile as he reached out to touch her fingers, waiting for her to stir.

"I was sleeping," she whispered.

"Wish I was."

"You can sleep here next to me."

"Can't."

"Why?"

"You'd be a distraction," he said gently.

"You're too tired to do anything about it."

"You're probably right."

"Tell me about Joe."

He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against the back of her fingers, breathing in the scent that hovered there in spite of the hospital smells. He held the back of her hand against his cheek as he told her everything, drawing strength from her closeness and from her survival. When he finished, she pulled his hand down and opened it, brushing her lips across his palm, kissing it so softly it brought tears to his eyes.

"You'll save him."

Her faith was the anchor he needed. As it always had been.

...

...


	4. Chapter 4

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 4_

...

The stillness felt heavy with the rising heat of the day, the water thick with silt and foul smelling. The bayou had narrowed, closing in on him as it twisted and turned back on itself, making it seem as if he was swimming twice the distance he had to in order to reach wherever the hell he was going. Two white egrets stood sentinel on the pale trunk of a dead tree partially submerged among the cattails near the bank, watching with unblinking eyes as he slowly swam by. He was tiring and his head droned in tune with the insects that continually hummed around his ears. He long ago had given up swatting at them. It wasted his failing energy.

He was jolted by the sound of a sudden splash behind him and he turned just as the tail of a gator disappeared into the brownish water. He hurriedly kicked for the dead tree, his heart rushing as the egrets gracefully lifted off, allowing him room to clamber up and scramble for the bank. His swollen knee scraped across the sharp remains of a broken limb, ripping open his pant leg and tearing into his skin, but he managed to continue until he finally fell heavily onto somewhat solid ground just beyond the cattails. He lay face down trying to catch his breath, the clammy heat pressing down on him like a thick blanket he wished he could throw off. He wanted nothing more than to rest, the need of it seductive, muddying his mind. Closing his eyes, his muscles quivered with exhaustion as he panted, taking the rancid smell of the slimy soil into his mouth and making him gag. Sound became muted as his mind drifted and his body waited for the pain to diminish. Finally raising up on one elbow, he looked back at the dark water, listening for the soft hiss of the gator as he searched the water for ripples of movement. He heard nothing, but felt no comfort from it, knowing how deathly quiet the creatures could be.

He collapsed back onto the ground, letting the unconcerned songs of the small birds in the trees above remind him of familiar places and safer times. He yearned for the smell of his young son after a bath, and to see the contentment on his wife's face as she sang him to sleep, rocking him tenderly in her arms. It was a part of his life he never tired of, one that had surprised him the first time he experienced it, having had no one tell him of that particular joy.

He hadn't talked to God since his brother had been killed in Iraq, but now he whispered old prayers he'd learned from his mother, pleading to be allowed to return home to his wife and son, to the missed comfort of family. Even though he was alone he felt embarrassed by the tears that filled his eyes. He thought he had never taken his family for granted, but now he wondered if that were true. He'd grown up with a loving father, and always knowing that deep down, he'd counted on that love without a second thought. It was only when Deeks came to the ranch and he saw the look on his face when his father hugged him, and the amazement he was unable to hide when he took him in and made him his son. He had seen his father's love through another man's eyes and that had made him realize what a gift that love truly was. It was as big and as wide as the plains that stretched out around them and as endless as the broad open sky above. There was depth to it, and freedom because of it, and Deeks had been amazed by a love he'd never experienced or known existed, at least for him. Because Deeks had come to cherish the love he had unwittingly taken as a constant, it had opened his own eyes to how precious a gift a family's love can be. Now he longed to be given the chance to see them all again, to tell them of his unabashed love for them, and mumbled prayers flowed from that deep and reverent need.

His eyes fluttered open and he realized he'd fallen asleep and his earlier prayers were replaced by curses at his own stupidity. He groaned as he pushed his upper body upright, enduring the bright slices of pain in his side. His injured knee was stiff and he could see through the tear in his jeans that it was bloody and he grabbed for his thigh as he struggled to rise. The soft whisper of moving grasses made him freeze, and he sniffed the heated air as if he were an animal, searching the dense foliage for the cause. A low growl made him flush with fear and he began to edge backwards, away from the haunting sound that carried death on its breath. He was almost to the water when the rawboned dog with the pale, blue grey eyes stalked out of the tall grass, its head low and stretched out towards him. It was Guidry's red Catahoula hound. The big one with the mottled patches that made the dog hard to see among the grasses until it bayed and charged its prey. Guidry had made the dog mean just like he was, beating on the animal until it fought back, yanking it to the ground by its chain until it stopped snarling at him.

Joe licked his lips and swallowed down the fear clawing at his insides and began to shakily suck in air as images of his partner's death flooded his mind. Agent Oscar Doucet was a Cajun who had grown up in Lafayette. He'd been young and fearless and loved boudin, the mouthwatering sausage he'd insisted he try the first day they met. He had constantly told dirty jokes with great enthusiasm, telling him he'd learned them all from his mama. When their cover had been blown, Guidry had hog-tied him, smearing him with blood from a recent wild pig kill. The sonofabitch had spit out a muted laugh when Oscar cursed him in Cajun, and ignored his frantic screams after he set his four biggest dogs on him. Joe remembered his own violent struggle against the ropes that held him, yelling curses at the men watching and trying desperately to look away as the dogs viciously mauled the young man, but Guidry held his head and made him watch. It hadn't taken long before Oscar's screams were silenced. When Guidry released his grip on his hair, telling him he would be next, the militiaman had patted him on the cheek before knocking him senseless with the same club he always used on the dogs.

Joe stared at the advancing hound with red-rimmed eyes, unaware of the tears that silently fell for his dead partner. He had always loved dogs and horses. He had been taught how to care for them and be gentle with them, but now he would have to kill this dog or it would kill him. Not taking his eyes off the animal, he continued to back towards the water on his hands and knees, feeling for anything he could use as a weapon. The dog moved slowly, slinking ever closer, its long tongue hanging out as it panted heavily, its jowls dripping with foamy drool. It had run a long way and Joe prayed it was as exhausted as he was. He braced himself against the trunk of the dead tree, but his feet suddenly slipped out from under him and he fell, instinctively raising his right arm to protect his throat from the onrushing hound. The snarling growl was deep and hollow sounding as the dog savagely tore into his arm, the force of its charge knocking him backwards into the bayou. He went under screaming, his mouth filling with dirty water, choking him until he managed to regain his feet. He clawed at the dog's eyes, but it stubbornly held on as Joe wrestled its head underwater, hoping to drown the beast. When he felt the dog slightly release its grip, he pulled his bloody arm free and slugged the dog as hard as he could, knocking him away, and then twisted and dove under the dead tree, putting it between him and the vicious animal now swimming for him. Joe tried to find his footing in the slippery muck at the edge of the bank as the dog clawed at the pale trunk, snarling out its anger, it's teeth bared as it struggled to pull itself up. He scrambled backward into the cattails, gasping at the raw pain in his now useless arm, frantically tearing at a broken branch, hoping to wrench it free with one hand. The hound had managed to climb halfway way up onto the partially submerged tree trunk when Joe heard a sudden splash and the wide open pink mouth of a gator snapped closed over the dog's hindquarters and pulled it under. The last, tortured cry of the dying animal almost made him feel sorry for the creature, but Oscar's savage killing drove the thought from his mind.

"Serves you right, you filthy, dumbass mongrel," Joe screamed.

Raging and slamming his fist into the water and mud again and again, he finally pulled himself up on the bank and collapsed, his soppy wet clothes steaming in the heat. Coughing and spitting out the foul brown water, he groaned deeply and shivered as blinding pain roared through his body. He knew he had to move, but the pain was overwhelming and swimming was no longer an option. Dark blood soaked into his t-shirt as he cradled his mangled forearm against his chest. If he wanted to survive he had to stop the bleeding, so he struggled to sit up, pulling the shirt over his head, the effort leaving him panting and drained. The wet shirt was filthy and he paused at the thought of the infection he was risking, but he had nothing else. He bit off a scream as he wrapped the wound as tightly as he could stand, and fell onto his back, staring up at the cloudless bit of sky he could see through the canopy of dark trees.

He remembered telling Deeks once that FBI agents were tough. Now he wasn't sure he was one of them. But Deeks had survived worse, his cousin Elan too, and giving up was not an option if he wanted to see his family again. If his brother could survive a madman's vengeance, then so could he. Rolling over, he forced himself to his knees and then to his feet, staggering forward, whispering supplications to his dead mother's God.

...

George watched his son as he lay face down on the sofa, having finally agreed early that morning to listen to Callen and sleep. Seeing the bandage on his arm left him feeling unsettled, as did the small one on his forehead that was hidden beneath his freshly washed hair, which was longer than he usually kept it. He guessed it was for the undercover assignment he'd just completed. His bare back was marked with multiple dark bruises from the flying debris of the explosion he'd survived, making him once again so grateful that at least one of his sons was safe where he could see him. He tugged the light blanket up to cover him, and rested his hand briefly on the back of his shoulder, the need to comfort him something he couldn't deny.

He had gotten in quite late and had been surprised to see Sam Hanna waiting for him when he came through the gate. He didn't know him very well, but he remembered him from the hospital in Germany when he helped Marty through a panic attack by telling him about the two Sotho boys who had brought about his rescue in South Africa. The big agent had been at the ranch too, afterwards, but George never wanted to dwell on that harrowing day and turned his thoughts back to what the ex SEAL had told him on the drive to Joe and Diane's house. Sam had been very matter-of-fact about what they knew of Joe's disappearance, which wasn't much, but it was the FBI's treatment of Diane and the threat to his grandson that had shattered his resolve to remain calm in spite of his fear for his missing son. He rarely cursed, and never took the Lord's name in vain, having been cured of that early in his marriage to Josie, but tonight had been the exception and he wouldn't apologize for it and Sam hadn't asked him to. The big man had also filled him in on Marty's injuries and what had happened to Kensi and the thought that he might have found out he'd lost both his sons in a single day had silenced him. When he finally laid eyes on the boy he had hugged him long and hard, quietly thanking God for sparing at least one of them.

"I got coffee on in the kitchen," Callen said softly.

He caught the lingering look he gave his son, and he reached out to squeeze his shoulder as he rose to follow, knowing how close the two had become. Callen was a maverick of sorts, unbranded by conventional behavior even though he played by the rules of his current situation most of the time. His connection to Marty had been forged in pain, both by the physical trials his adopted son had endured and by Callen's deep anger at not being able to spare him from that pain. He had watched him struggle to understand their growing bond, but once established he seemed to revel in it, and it had changed him, warming some of that cool restraint that was so much a part of him.

His own relationship with the tough agent was still a work in progress. The man was stubborn, like some wild horses he'd worked with, unwilling to be completely broken by accepting any kindness offered, as if it would take away his freedom to run from anything that made him uncomfortable. He had tried to reach out to him whenever he came to the ranch, but Callen maintained a bit of distance from him, as though it were too great a risk to get any closer. He had shared a little about his search for his long lost father, and he reasoned Callen felt that if he accepted his offer to fill that role he would be giving up on his lifelong search, and abandoning the man he still hoped would want him. He was a young man who refused to be broken by what he had suffered as a child, much like Marty, not realizing there was no harm in allowing others to salvage what was already broken inside.

"He's going after him isn't he?" George asked as he stared out the kitchen window at the ever-lightening sky.

"We both are," Callen replied as he came to stand beside him.

"I expected so."

"Does Elan know?"

"Yeah. Called him as soon as I got off the phone with Marty," George answered. "Said he'd get here as soon as he could, but not to wait for him if you got a lead. Said he was leaving Soldier with Mimi and Luc at their farm in Normandy. They've taken to the boy, and Luc could use the help with the horses. Elan says he's learning French."

"How'd Elan take it?" Callen asked, seemingly concerned only with necessary information.

"How'd you think?"

"He's pissed."

"He swore in French. I know it wasn't Arapaho," George said with a brief smile. "Said he'd connect with you wherever you get to."

"We'll need him," Callen replied. "He can back up Deeks."

"Who's backin' you?"

"Sam."

George experienced a wave of emotion he wasn't prepared for and he suddenly trembled so badly he almost dropped his coffee. He gripped Callen's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as he was overcome by the gift these men were offering. Elan was family, but the others he had known for less than four years and not well. He'd expected it of Marty. He was a brother and his son. Joe had touched each one of them on some level, and now they were willing to charge out into unknown territory to bring him back. How could he possibly express the deep gratitude he was feeling?

"We'll find him, George," Callen said, sounding concerned.

"I know you will and it means the world to me," George replied softly.

Callen took his cup and went to pour him another coffee, giving him time to get control of his emotions. It was a kindness he hadn't expected, but maybe should have. A man can change if he allows himself to. He'd seen it happen to Marty, and maybe his experience had helped Callen to see that you didn't have to be a tough guy all the time, especially with people who care about you.

"I never wanted Joe to join the FBI," George confessed as he took the fresh cup. "I'd already seen what war had done to him and I didn't want him hurt anymore."

"Have a feeling he didn't like that advice," Callen smirked.

"He did what we call 'takin' the bit in his teeth', and did what he wanted no matter what I said," George replied. "One of the men killed in his unit had left the bureau to join up. Guess Joe had promised him he'd check it out when they got home."

"He's a strong minded man," Callen said quietly. "And he's a good agent."

"Not good enough," George said bitterly, staring into his coffee.

"Don't you blame Joe," Deeks said loudly from behind him.

George turned at the rebuke to see his son standing bare chested, clutching a blanket tightly, the muscles of his arms flexing beneath the skin. He was angry, his expression hard and unyielding, something he hadn't seen on his face in a very long time.

"You're right son," he conceded. "Guess my anger got the best of me."

Humbled by the thought that he had disparaged his own boy without cause, he turned and started to walk away, only to have Callen take his arm and stop him.

"Deeks...he's in shock just like you are," Callen said. "Pulling away from each other won't do Joe any good or us either."

"Don't give up hope, George," Deeks said, tossing the blanket aside as he came forward. "You and Jim Littleshield taught him how to survive in the wild and he will."

"Why do you think he's in the wild?" George asked with surprise.

"Because if he was in a town or a city, he would have found a way to contact one of us," Deeks ventured. "Not sure he knows who to trust in the FBI right now."

"You don't believe he's dead," George whispered, even though he feared the persistent thought that he might be.

"I have to believe that, and so do you," Deeks replied.

George pulled both men to him, hugging their necks like a lifeline, their strong arms enclosing him in a cocoon of hope. He fought the tears that blurred his eyes, but he lost that battle. Standing with a wounded old heart between two stalwart young men, he drew on their strength and determination as he cried for his missing son.

...

"I've never seen him cry," Deeks said softly as they parked in front of the boat shed.

"Everyone has his breaking point. Even George," Callen replied. "Kensi told me he broke down when he saw you in the hospital in Germany."

Deeks felt a prick of remembered pain and a shadow of raw terror slithered through his chest. Breathing rapidly, his right hand trembled before he curled it into a fist and he cursed softly and closed his eyes, trying to banish the harrowing memories that had caught him off-guard.

"Deeks? You okay?" Callen noticed his reaction and gripped his shoulder, helping him ride out the wave of troubling emotions.

"That hasn't happened in awhile," he finally replied.

"Too much stress, and not enough rest," Callen said.

"That's funny coming from a man who never sleeps," Deeks smiled as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

"I got enough, but I'm not sure George did," Callen said.

"He's worried."

"He's angry too," Callen continued. "He just doesn't have anyone to take it out on yet."

"We could invite Agent Slater over and watch what happens," Deeks grinned cockily as he climbed out of the car.

"Now that I would pay to see," Callen said with a smirk.

Deeks and Callen exchanged a long look, recalling the last time someone had messed with George Atwood's family, and both men let their smiles fade.

"Think the FBI has a file on what happened to Jürgen?" Deeks asked, pausing uncertainly at the door of the boat shed.

"If they do, Slater hasn't found it or he would have been a lot nicer to Di."

"It'd be better if no one knew," Deeks said softly.

Deeks felt a slight chill, the memories still painful, moving over him like heavy rain clouds, dark and foreboding, shutting out the light. He ran a hand nervously through his hair and it was only Callen's firm grip on his shoulder and the understanding in his eyes that made him leave the past to focus on finding Joe.

Hetty and Sam were waiting for them inside, and Deeks looked expectantly around for Director Stinson.

"He's not coming, Mr. Deeks," Hetty told him. "He and I met late into the night and I have all the pertinent information and some the FBI doesn't even know about. I'll have Nell send it to your phones."

"You brought Nell and Eric in on this?" Callen asked, seeming surprised.

"We are now our own task force and are operating under the same authority as Joe Atwood," she announced. "I've been in touch with the head of the National Joint Terrorism Task Force. Terrance Rigby and I are old friends and sometime political adversaries. However, he has given us the authority to do whatever it takes to find Joe Atwood and bring him in."

"That sounds like they want him arrested," Deeks snapped.

"On the contrary, Mr. Deeks," she said quickly. "He believes Joe has discovered a lot more than a mole within the Louisiana task force. He wants him found because whatever else Joe discovered is all in his head and involves the funding source of a home grown terrorist group operating out of the area."

"How does he know that?" Sam asked.

"Before he went missing, Joe contacted him directly," she replied. "Unfortunately, the call was cut off...possibly because of bad cell reception wherever Joe was calling from. He never called back."

"Someone got to him before he could," Sam commented. "Or while he was on the phone."

"I'm afraid so," Hetty said softly and looked down at the files in front of her.

"Hetty? What aren't you telling us?" Callen had that suspicious look on his face he always got whenever their boss was withholding information.

"Joe was partnered with a local undercover agent. Oscar Doucet," she said softly. "His body was discovered late yesterday by a man baiting crawfish traps."

"Where?" Deeks practically jump when Callen asked.

"Somewhere on Bayou Chene off the Atchafalaya River," she replied. "The body had been in the water awhile."

"But not Joe," Deeks said, watching Hetty as she slowly shook her head no.

"Anything we need to know about the way he died?" Sam asked.

"Yes. Prepare yourselves," she said kindly. "Whoever did this is a brutal sonofabitch."

"And you think they have Joe," Deeks breathed out as he clinched his fists.

"I pray they don't."

"Hetty? How bad?" Finally tiring of her stalling.

"It appears he was mauled to death by a pack of large dogs," she said, shaking her head with obvious sadness. "His throat was ripped out."

Images of the recovered body suddenly appeared on the big screen, and Deeks stood and walked quickly outside, his fear now so deep it made his gut turn over. He lost his breakfast and was gripping the chain link fence by the dock when Callen and Sam got to him. The men stood solemnly on either side of him, saying nothing, their presence reminding him that he wasn't alone in his anger or his fear.

"We've got no proof he's even alive," Deeks whispered.

"And no proof he's dead," Sam said firmly.

"And that's how we operate, Deeks," Callen said. "We go to Louisiana. We search and we assume Joe's alive until proven otherwise."

"George can't find out how his partner died, G," Deeks said intensely.

"I'm afraid he already has, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said from behind them. "Agent Slater is at the house. Eric hacked the feed from the bugs they installed. I have a call into Stinson, but you have my permission to give that bastard hell. I'll deal with the consequences."

"George..." Deeks choked out and started running for the car with Callen and Sam right behind him.

No one spoke until they pulled up in front of the house behind a black SUV. Sam had beaten them there and was waiting when Deeks got out of the car. He stepped in front of him and pressed a hand to his chest, the warning look on his face one Deeks was quite familiar with.

"Don't do anything stupid, Deeks," he ordered. "You assault that agent and you won't get to look for your brother. Remember that and control yourself."

Deeks glared at him, but he did understand and appreciate the reminder, nodding his agreement so Sam would let him go. Callen was already at the door, and he looked about as pissed as Deeks felt. When they pushed inside, Diane was crumpled in the corner of the couch quietly crying, her arms tightly wrapped around little Christopher, who was dabbing at her tears with his blanket. George stood in front of her just on the edge of rage, his hands clutched into fists, and his face looking like a thundercloud about to spit lightning. Agent Slater looked smugly back at him, but didn't take his eyes off him when he spoke.

"You should warn Mr. Atwood of the consequences of attacking a Federal Agent," he said, lifting his chin haughtily.

"George..." Deeks said quietly as he walked between them, ignoring the agent.

"This sick bastard showed Diane a photo of Joe's dead partner. He'd been ripped to shreds by dogs," he choked out. "He said the men Joe was workin' with would do the same thing to him if she didn't tell him where he was."

"You fucking sonofabitch," Deeks said, turning to face the man.

"I simply showed them what happens to traitors when the terrorists they're collaborating with turn against them," Slater explained.

"Are you accusing Oscar Doucet of being a traitor too?" Callen asked.

"Of course not. Atwood probably gave him up..."

"My son would never do that," George raged. "He almost died trying to save his men in Iraq. Now you want me to believe he would turn on his own partner and the country he loves? My son is an honorable man, something I don't think you know anything about."

"Maybe you don't know your son as well as you think you do," Slater spit out. "Maybe he bragged about exploits that never happened. Soldiers do that."

"You've never been a soldier, have you Slater?" Sam asked knowingly, advancing on the man.

"I serve my country by bringing terrorists to justice," he replied.

"So do we," Sam said angrily. "But we don't do it by terrorizing the wife and father of one of our own agents."

"I don't have to explain my methods to any of you," he snapped back.

"I think you're a cruel, insensitive bastard," Deeks said softly. "You get off on scaring people when they're most vulnerable..."

"I'm not sorry I shocked your little made up family here," Slater said, cutting Deeks off. "I wanted them to see the kind of deep shit he's into. If they're not tough enough to take it, then that's just too bad."

George pushed his way past Deeks and moved purposely into the agent's space, forcing him to take a step back.

"You don't know me, boy," George said, his voice tightly controlled. "But I want you to know I don't take kindly to a man like you. You're like a rank horse that's just plain ornery and mean. You got no manners or good sense. You think that if you bully people you'll get what you want. Well, that don't work with people anymore than it does with horses. I train horses for a living. I've seen what happens to the rank ones who don't learn to behave. People get tired of foolin' with 'em, so they get rid of 'em or they put 'em down."

"Are you threatening me?" Slater demanded.

"If you come around here to bully my daughter-in-law again, I will do more than threaten you," George said calmly. "You've said your piece and had your fun. Now get out."

"I can arrest you for threatening a Federal Agent," Slater blustered.

"Then you're gonna need more men," Callen said as all three agents moved in beside George.

"I won't forget this," Slater huffed out as he headed for the door.

"Neither will we," Deeks promised.

...

...


	5. Chapter 5

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 5_

...

It hurt. All of it hurt. Maybe not physically, although there was that aspect as well that he had to deal with. But it was the pain that wouldn't leave his heart that hurt the most. He had pain meds for the headaches and gunshot wound, but the wound in his heart was not going away and probably wouldn't until he found Joe and saw Kensi on her own two feet again. He'd told Callen he was dropping by the hospital, letting him gather the guns and needed supplies, the accepting nod affirming their understanding of one another's needs. At least his relationship with Callen felt good. Everything else that was going on simply hurt.

"Thought you'd be gone by now," Just hearing Kensi's voice eased some of his emotional turmoil.

"Couldn't leave without making sure my tough ladybird was okay," he said, forcing himself to smile.

"Afraid I'll forget you when you're gone?" She teased.

"Seriously? You been checking out the sexy interns and residents?"

"Maybe..." Her smile sliding into a look of sadness. "You good? You seem a little off. Did something else happen?"

"Nothing gets past you even when you're on the good drugs," he replied, nervously brushing his long hair out of his eyes.

"Just tell me Deeks," She said quickly, taking his hand and pulling him closer.

He told her everything and the hurt returned with every word, burning into his chest and making him lightheaded. He concentrated on her firm grip, staring at her long fingers as they curled around the back of his hand. God, he needed her strength, and he told her that too. She smiled, but there were tears in her eyes as she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it tenderly, her eyes never leaving his face.

"One of you should have kicked Slater's ass," saying it softly even as her eyes flashed with sudden anger.

"Wanted to. We all did...but, we couldn't take the chance," he said. "Slater would take it out on Di, and I don't think she can handle much more."

"George will look after Diane and Chris," she reminded him.

"I know, but he's scared too, and I hate seeing that," Deeks said. "I have to find Joe for him. I don't know what it will do to him if I don't."

"You're afraid aren't you?" she asked quietly. "I can see it in your eyes."

"I saw crime scene photos of what they did to his partner, Kens," he said, as he stared out the window of her room. "If they did that to Joe..."

He felt the air rush from his lungs as the thought burrowed deep inside of him. He couldn't catch his breath; the thought of the man he loved like a brother suffering such cruelty was too great and painful to deal with even though he knew that's exactly what he had to do.

The past couple of years hadn't been perfect, but he'd come closer to pure happiness than he ever thought possible. He had settled into having a family, becoming used to the simple pleasure of calling one of them just to talk. It was a secret joy to call George when he had something good to share as well as when he needed to hear his calm assurance when bad things got to him. George was his bedrock, a father found late in life and a man he treasured.

Having brothers was a new experience altogether. Callen lived a spartan existence and learning his quirks had been an adventure. The man was extremely protective of himself, of his time, his solitude and especially of his heart. Conquering the fear of abandonment and rejection because of the kind of men they were was something they held in common and had worked on together. Those conversations, as laconic as they'd been, had brought them closer and they had slowly developed a somewhat easygoing relationship, maybe not the same as he had with Joe, just different and one he cherished just as much. They watched out for each other, and had grown to understand each other and care deeply for one another. Sam watched over them both, scolding, mothering, and protecting them both faithfully. He was their shadow, such a constant in their lives that it seemed reasonable to take him for granted. He and Sam had had their ups and downs, but he knew the tough agent would be there for him when needed and he counted on that. And then there was Elan. They had bonded deeply after what they had suffered through in France and in their fight to rescue his long lost son and bring him home to the ranch where he belonged. They needed no words to express their connection, it was just there, solid and unshakable.

All these men had become brothers to him, but Joe had been the first. Through pain and laughter, sorrow and joy they had come to love one another. He had filled a void in his life he hadn't known was there, became the brother he had longed for as a child, and was now a living part of him. Life without Joe was something he could not allow himself to think about. It would cripple him.

"Don't worry about me when you're out there," Kensi said, drawing him away from his thoughts. "Promise me. I don't want you distracted, okay?"

"Yes ma'am, Agent Blye, ma'am," he said with a brief, crooked grin.

"I'm serious Deeks."

"I know. Don't worry about me. Sam and G are already on my back about focusing," he said, feeling surly and edging towards anger.

"But I won't be there."

"Is that so bad?" He asked, knowing he was heading into treacherous territory but unable to stop himself.

"What the hell does that mean?" Sharp anger boiling out with the words.

"Forget about all our arguments already?" His voice sharp, unsure of why he'd even brought it up.

"Listen...I know you're upset and pissed about all that's happened, but don't push me away Deeks. Don't."

"Isn't that what you did on our last assignment?" He asked, his emotions fluctuating wildly between anger and anxiety. "Time apart might be just what you need. It will give you time to think about things, maybe even make a decision about what you want to happen with us."

"How am I supposed to think about our future when you're out there facing who knows what kind of danger?" Her words faltering by the end.

"We're in danger every day," he said evenly. "Forget where you are?"

"You're not being fair," she accused, her eyes softening with tears, making him realize he might have gone too far.

"You're right. I'm not, but what I said is still true," he replied, afraid to look at her. "Take the time to decide what you want, if anything, and let me know when I get back."

"If anything? What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

"Deeks...Just because I might not want children, doesn't mean I don't want you," she said, pleading for his understanding.

"You said you were weighing your options and I figured I was one of them," he confessed.

"You can be a real idiot sometimes," she snapped out, her eyes dark and her jaw clinched in anger.

"Yeah, I got that," he said, taking a step back. "You called me pigheaded, if I remember."

"Well, right now you're being an asshole."

He wasn't sure why he was antagonizing her. She was badly injured and yet here he was being a prick. He loved her deeply, and she loved him, yet he wasn't sure their love was enough to bridge the gap that had developed between them. Wondering if she would ever want a family larger than the two of them was unsettling, her indecision frustrating. He was afraid she'd already made her decision, one he didn't want to hear, one she was afraid to share with him. All of it was weighing on him. Seeing her go down in that explosion had ripped open his soul. Fear that he might not reach Joe in time to save his life was as constant as the beating of his heart, and he suddenly felt as if his whole world was crumbling. Nothing was as certain as it once had seemed. Even the love he once had thought unending now felt transient, and he sensed his anger gathering like a storm he couldn't outrun.

"I gotta go," he said quickly, backing away from her.

"Deeks, you can't leave like this," she pleaded.

"That's what assholes do."

"You may be an asshole sometimes, but you're not leaving until you sign my cast."

"What?"

He stared at her, knowing what she was trying to do, and he felt ashamed of himself for his surliness. Her eyes were soft with tears and her bottom lip quivered into a tentative smile. Her face hinted at her need, but finally settled into that loving look he never tired of.

"Sounds like an ultimatum," he finally replied, softening his voice as he worked to control his chaotic emotions.

"It's not," she whispered. "I don't do well with ultimatums. This is just a simple request from the woman who loves you."

He let his first response fade before it could escape, and reached for a marker one of the nurses had left on the table. Words had always come so easily for him. He tended to let them flow without thinking at times, but now he had no idea what to write on the cast of the only woman he had ever truly loved.

Her fingers trailed down his arm and it was almost his undoing. He had treated her like shit, which she didn't deserve and tears clouded his vision as he searched for the words that might smooth over what had just happened between them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he looked back at her.

"I know," she said. "But I don't want you to dwell on any of this. I want you focused and I want you to come home and bring Joe with you."

"Kens, I don't know what to write to make up for the things I said," he confessed.

"Just write all the nicknames you have ever called me. Even the stupid ones that I hated."

"All of them? Cause there's a lot," he said with a cocky grin. "You might need a bigger cast."

"Write small, dumbass," she said sweetly.

It was his first laugh of the day and it swept all the bitterness away, leaving just two people who couldn't live without the other. They would work it out. There was no other choice.

When he finished she smiled, her expression changing as if a special memory was attached to each one she read. She laughed out loud at a few, frowned at one or two, but whispered others and they became caught up in a game of trying to recall the occasion he had given them to her. He'd forgotten a couple and when she reminded him, he dutifully added them to the sloppy looking list scrawled across the long white cast. In a way, they were a record of their time together, and he found it hard to keep from smiling.

"Deeks?"

"Yeah, Fern?"

"You don't call me that much anymore."

"Maybe it'll stage a comeback," he teased. "The Return of Fern...starring Kensi Marie Blye."

"I'd like that."

"I'll miss you," he whispered. "Get better."

"Come home to me Deeks," her voice wavering, her eyes dark and shimmering.

He nodded and leaned down to kiss her goodbye, whispering promises he wanted nothing more than to keep.

...

Deeks had always been particular about the clothes he used for undercover assignments, but he took particular care this time. He rejected four gimme caps before settling on a gray one from a feed store in Idaho, and when Hetty offered to help assemble his outfit, he rejected her offer as well. The jeans he wore were from his college days, and looked anything but collegiate, soiled on the front as well as the seat, the edges of the pockets frayed as were the knees, and the hems ragged. He brought in his own collection of t-shirts, most unwashed and faded, touting different country western groups. The black one he was now wearing sported a barely discernible graphic for Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys, the Cajun band he was the most familiar with. He finally accepted a rumpled blue plaid shirt Hetty had found, but had left with it briefly, returning smelling slightly of fish.

"Where'd you get the belt Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked, admiring the big silver and gold buckle featuring the head of a bull.

"Diane asked me to wear it," he replied, rubbing his thumb over the dull finish. "It's Joe's. He won it in a rodeo when he was eighteen."

"A bull rider too," Hetty mused. "A very brave and talented man, your brother."

"Yeah, he is."

"I have faith in you both, Mr. Deeks," she said, patting his arm. "You'll find him."

"You ready to brief us Hetty?" Callen asked as he walked up dressed in a pale yellow western shirt with pearl snap buttons. His jeans were black and well-worn and tight fitting over old cowboy boots.

"Yellow's not your color G," Sam said as he joined them.

"I didn't know I had a color," he replied with a smirk.

"Of course you didn't, Mr. Callen," Hetty said as she evaluated his outfit. "I should think you'd be better suited in pink. It compliments your eyes."

"Seriously Hetty?" Deeks said, getting exasperated with the gentle banter.

"I don't think a militiaman would be caught dead in pink," Sam offered.

Deeks stiffened at the comment, turning away to stuff the rest of his clothes into his go-bag. Sam came up behind him and ruffled his hair, apologizing softly for the ill-advised comment. They were all on edge, but it was Deeks who remained the most agitated, snapping at anyone who said or did what he considered the wrong thing. He was antsy to go and his eyes pleaded with Hetty until she sighed deeply and ordered them up to Ops for the briefing.

"You'll be flying out tonight on a military transport plane to the Naval Air Station in Belle Chasse, just outside of New Orleans," Nell informed them. "Paperwork and IDs for your new identities will be handed out before you leave. They've been back stopped ten years, which was as far back as we could get on such short notice. Eric will be doing the monitoring, and will let you know if anyone goes digging."

"Gentlemen...Consider this a black op. You will have only one contact on the ground in Louisiana. Outside of this office, no one is to know your true identities or the nature of this operation," Hetty added. "Your contact is a retired Navy SEAL. He was born in Evangeline Parish, moved around a lot as a child, but is familiar with the area and the Atchafalaya Swamp."

"Would I know him, Hetty?" Sam asked, openly curious.

"He would have been before your time I'm afraid," she responded.

"You said he was retired? How old is he?" Callen asked.

"Are you an ageist, Mr. Callen?"

"Only if he's on crutches."

"If he were Mr. Callen, he could still take you," Hetty said with a nasty little laugh.

"I like him already," Sam said, smiling widely.

"Does he know the militia group Joe infiltrated?" Deeks asked anxiously. "Can he get us in?"

"He has contacts who can," she replied.

"Can we trust him?" Deeks voice was low and distrustful and they all noticed.

"With your life, Mr. Deeks. With your life," she said without hesitation. "His name is Roy Blanchard, although that is not the name he was born with. He'll be waiting for you when you land. He will set you up in a safe house and provide you with whatever you may need locally and basically give you the lay of the land. Sam, you'll be on overwatch with him."

"The safe house is fully equipped with the latest tech, so I'll be at your fingertips," Eric said proudly, wiggling his fingers in front of him.

"What militia group are we infiltrating?" Callen asked.

"They call themselves The Patriotic Brotherhood," Nell replied. "Or La Fraternité Patriotique. Their rallying cry is Liberté de l'Oppression. Their leader and a large portion of their members are Cajun and extremely radical. They've been on the watch list of the FBI, the NSA and of this particular Terrorism Task Force for a couple of years."

"Do we know who the leader is?" Deeks asked roughly.

"A man named Antoine Guidry," Eric replied softly as he put the man's picture up on the big board.

Callen took a step closer to Deeks as he stared unblinking at the man's photo.

"Guidry and his men are believed to be the muscle for a local clandestine terrorist group, which was Joe Atwood's main assignment. No one knows who runs this particular group, although they are thought to be of the homegrown variety," Hetty explained. "They are suspected of orchestrating several small attacks on military bases in the South using The Patriotic Brotherhood to carry them out. But, it's believed they are planning something much, much bigger. How they fund their efforts was another target of Mr. Atwood's investigation. We believe he discovered that information, but was unable to pass it on before he disappeared."

"Mr. Callen...Mr. Deeks...you will be going in as two brothers on the run from the FBI," Hetty continued. "Mr. Beale has given you a profile on the dark web, where you are known as the Hale brothers, Jacob and James. You are descendants of the Revolutionary War hero Nathan Hale, who purportedly said 'I regret that I have only one life to lose for my country' before being hung by the British. You are rabid patriots who believe this country has gone to hell and have spent your lives railing against its excesses and the government agencies tasked with keeping private citizens in line. You are violent and wanted in connection with the mysterious deaths of two FBI agents in Colorado."

"Are those the two dead FBI agents found garroted in their car in March?" Deeks asked. "Joe talked to me about that. He wanted to get the bastards who did it."

"Well, let's hope the FBI doesn't find the perpetrators until this op is over," Hetty remarked quietly.

"What about me Hetty?" Sam asked.

"Although you will mainly be on overwatch, Mr. Hanna" Hetty said, "I may also find it necessary to send you inside the New Orleans task force to see if we can't flush out the person responsible for betraying Joe and Oscar Doucet."

"Can't I do that as myself?" He asked.

"If I send you, it will be as a representative of the DOJ," she replied. "I've cleared it with SecNav and the Attorney General."

"Why not send one of their own people?" Callen asked.

"We all want this to be as tightly controlled as possible, and that means one overseer, and that overseer is me," said firmly. "Sam will be directed by me and answer only to me. If he finds it necessary to interview the mole Joe uncovered, that interview will take place in a secure location known only to me and to Roy Blanchard. He's a skilled interrogator, Sam. He's almost as intimidating as you, however in a much different way."

"He's a SEAL. I'd expect nothing less," Sam replied and smiled. "If I'm DOJ, guess you better pick out an appropriate suit for me."

"The wardrobe for Franklin S. Goodman is already packed and on board your transport," Hetty replied, before turning to face them all. "Gentlemen, stay safe."

"Come on, Frankie. Let's move," Callen said, wrapping an arm around Deeks shoulder as he guided him toward the door. "Me and Jimmy are ready to roll."

"Don't disrespect your superior, G," Sam shot back as he followed.

"Call me Jake, Frankie. And just cause you'll be wearing a suit doesn't make you my superior," Callen said.

Deeks broke away and turned back, telling Callen he needed to talk to Hetty. Callen nodded and followed Sam out, their continuous banter fading as they descended the stairs.

"What do you need Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked.

"I want you to keep Agent Slater away from Diane and George," he demanded, his voice tinged with anger. "Can you do that?"

"I'm not certain I can, Mr. Deeks," she replied.

"I'm worried that George might do something to the sonofabitch if he tries to harass Di again," Deeks was practically vibrating with anger as he spoke.

"I see how that might be a distraction for you," she said kindly. "Let me talk with Michelle. She has offered to help in any way she can. Perhaps she will agree to stay with the Atwoods until this is over. She's strong enough to keep Slater and your father in line, and she would be a good conduit for passing along information if we need to."

"Thanks, Hetty."

"Take care of yourself, Mr. Deeks," she said softly.

"Call me Jimmy," he said in a low, harsh voice as he pulled the gray gimme cap down low over his eyes.

...

Deeks had remained mostly silent on the flight, which worried Callen. He was a nervous flyer and usually talked incessantly to overcome it, but not tonight. He hadn't slept either, even after Sam had insisted he take a couple of pain pills. Constantly scanning his iPad, he read up on the area they were heading into, and repeatedly reviewed the files the FBI had released to them right before they left. Callen had tried ordering him to sleep, which had led to an argument that pissed him off until he realized the kid was already into his alias, a wiseass bastard with the dark undertone of a threat in every comment. His smile was gone, but the cocky grin remained, but it was more of a snarl, full of grit and defiance. Callen had finally responded physically, hardening his own voice as he grabbed Deeks' jacket and yanked him close, ordering him to shut the fuck up and sleep or he'd beat the crap out of him. He had seen the surprise in his eyes, so he had smiled tightly and called him Jimmy, pushing him away before lightly slapping his cheek.

"Gear up, smartass," Callen said as the plane started its descent.

"Fuck you, Jake."

"If that was an offer, I'm not interested," he shot back with a grin.

"You two are already getting on my nerves," Sam said as he buckled his seatbelt.

"Frankie's a sensitive bastard, ain't he?" Jimmy crowed with a grin.

"You ain't kiddin' bro," Jake replied, chewing openmouthed on a wad of gum he'd started to pop his ears.

"Heaven help me," Sam murmured.

"I think on this little trip, heaven's name is Roy," Deeks sniped, suddenly himself again, his smile soft and charming.

The three of them left the plane quickly, and walked across the tarmac side by side, gear and go-bags in hand, searching the darkness for their contact. The air was warm and very humid, the roar of distant jet engines and the nauseating smell of aviation fuel giving Callen an instant headache. Sam stopped him with an arm across his chest before pointing to an approaching four-wheel drive Jeep that had seen better days. The man who exited the beat up vehicle was broad shouldered and around six-feet, dressed in a gray tank top, black jeans and a khaki vest arrayed with multiple pockets. His hair was black, long on top and slicked back on the sides, and tinged with gray, matching his beard. His face and arms were deeply tanned and taut muscles corded under his skin. Callen really couldn't tell his age, guessing he was in his late fifties.

"Guess you're the motley crew Miss Lange saddled me with," the man said with a soft drawl.

"And you must be the resident dickwad," Deeks snapped back, sounding like Jimmy again.

"Deeks!" Sam barked. "I know it's been a long couple of days, but ease up."

"You don't have much of a sense of humor, do ya boy," the man said.

"Actually, he's usually the funny one," Callen said as he stepped forward to introduce himself. "I'm Special Agent G Callen, the smart ass is Agent Marty Deeks and this is Special Agent Sam Hanna, ex Navy SEAL."

"Roy 'Dickwad' Blanchard at your service gentlemen, and asshole," nodding at Deeks with a wide smile. "Stow your gear in the back and let's take a little ride. If you're hungry we can stop on the way, otherwise settle in. The safe house is near a town called Thibodaux about an hours drive west."

They were waved through a side gate with only a salute by Blanchard, who stomped on the gas as soon as they were on the highway. The brightly lit city of New Orleans glowed in the distance, just on the other side of the dark Mississippi River. Deeks rolled down the window and pulled off his cap, tousling his hair in the warm flow of air. Callen gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, knowing how turbulent his emotions were at the moment.

"Hetty said Joe Atwood is like a brother to ya'll," Blanchard said mildly.

"Yeah...especially to Deeks," Sam replied from beside him.

"Best control your rage, boy," he counseled. "Keep it inside. Use it, but don't go off like ya did on me when you get inside The Brotherhood. Them boys'll chew ya up and spit ya out and that's before breakfast."

"Fuck off," Deeks replied softly.

Blanchard looked quickly in the rearview mirror and pulled off the road and stopped. He turned in a split second and grabbed Deeks' t-shirt in his fist and yanked him forward before either Sam or Callen could stop him.

"Listen, you smart ass little fucker! I know you're pissed, and I know you're scared shitless that what happened to Oscar happened to your brother," his voice hard and deep. "But don't blow this op by letting Antoine Guidry see that. He may be a hick from the sticks to you, but he is anything but dumb. Men follow him for a reason. He's smart and conniving and vicious and they know if they cross 'im their life is forfeit. Don't go gettin' yourself killed before ya have a chance to find out what happened to your brother. Got it?"

"Got it, dickwad," Deeks said coolly.

Blanchard shook his head, laughing as he shoved Deeks back in his seat.

"You knew Oscar Doucet," Deeks said.

"Oscar was my second cousin on my mother's side. I'm more like his uncle though," he said calmly as he pulled back out onto the highway. "It's why Hetty called me."

"How long you known Hetty?" Callen asked.

"'Fraid that's classified."

"Sorry for your loss, man," Sam said quietly.

"Hadn't seen 'im since he was a teenager," Blanchard said softly. "Out of the country for long stretches. His brother called me. When I got here, we went to identify the body together. When we saw what those bastards had done to 'im, it was all I could do to keep Gus from gathering all the men in the family and goin' on a rampage. So I know where you're comin' from kid."

"Hetty said you have a contact who can get us into Guidry's militia," Callen said.

"Yeah. Homer Moreau. Now there's a real dickwad," Blanchard laughed. "But he's one of the few honest men in his family and he owes me. His cousin Henry joined the Brotherhood a year ago. A real piece of shit, that one."

"He's not the one who got Joe and Oscar in is he?" Deeks questioned anxiously.

"No...and it's good to know you're not a dumbass after all," Blanchard snorted out with a laugh.

"Joe didn't always agree on that," Deeks said quietly and turned to stare out the window, staying silent the remainder of the trip.

Callen shook him awake when they drove through a set of tall wrought iron gates that led to a gravel road between a double row of oak trees. The headlights illuminated big old gnarled limbs dripping with tendrils of low hanging moss, and the colonnaded front of a two-story, ghostly white antebellum house at the end. It was totally dark inside and looked abandoned, some of the shutters hanging crookedly next to broken windows, but Blanchard pulled up in front and shut off the engine.

"Yours?" Callen asked as he got out and stretched his legs.

"Belonged to the rich side of my mother's family," he replied. "Creoles. Settled on Bayou Lafourche around 1835. Raised sugarcane."

"I'm guessing they didn't do that themselves," Sam said as he stared up at the graceful columns lining the front of the house.

"Not a part of my heritage I'm proud of," he said with some embarrassment. "But, I've used the plantation for the nation's good since I took it on a few years ago."

Blanchard opened the large ornate front door and flipped on the lights and they all stepped into the two-story foyer under a blazing chandelier that lit a grand double staircase of polished oak.

"Gentlemen...Welcome to Oak Haven."

...

...


	6. Chapter 6

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 6_

...

Oak Haven was a big old rambling place, a ghost from a life that no longer existed. The old fashioned parlor looked unused and smelled musty, the furniture covered with dusty sheets, and the rugs threadbare. The lights flickered on an off as Blanchard hurried them through, speaking softly as if he might disturb long dead relatives. The adjacent library appeared to be better cared for, the walls and shelves all a deep, honey colored oak and dominated by a large library table in the center covered in scattered books and old maps. Callen stopped to examine a hand lettered genealogy chart that was brown with age, the edges brittle, so fragile he resisted the urge to touch it.

"Researched my mama's line all the way back to Eleanor of Aquitaine," Roy offered softly. "But my daddy's a whole different story. Sonofabitch took off when I was a kid and my mama isn't real interested in talkin' about 'im cause of that, so research on his family line is slow going. Has taught me patience though."

Callen said nothing, but he heard Deeks snort out a soft laugh and looked up to see him shake his head as he slowly turned a big globe with the flat of his hand.

"Think tracin' your roots is a joke kid?" Roy asked tightly.

"Why do you care about finding out the history of a man who abandoned you?" He asked, sounding irritated, his face softened by exhaustion.

"Just curious I guess," Roy told him. "Aren't you interested in the blood that runs through your veins?"

"Not his," Deeks replied without energy. "Sharing his blood didn't make him a good father."

"Sounds like your daddy was a sonofabitch just like mine," Roy said quietly.

"I'm more interested in the present than the past," Deeks answered. "Our tech operator said this place has the latest equipment. Mind showing us if that's true or not? I don't really give a shit about your slave holding ancestors."

Roy stiffened and Callen quickly caught Deeks' eye, giving him a not so subtle warning look to play nice, holding it until he finally saw resignation on his face. He could see how tired he was, but unwilling to give into it, acting out as a child might and pissing off the one man who was helping them find Joe.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Deeks?" Sam scolded, taking his arm to drag him away before things escalated.

"You and Guidry might just get along if he don't kill ya first," Roy said. "Y'all are both assholes and don't have the manners God gave a pig."

"That last insult stings a little, but I guess it's appropriate...I used to be a cop," Deeks said with a sudden, cocky grin.

"Well hell...don't that beat all," Roy laughed. "So was Guidry. Just don't go sharin' any stories, or he'll likely shoot ya."

"How'd he go from being a cop to running an anti government militia?" Callen asked.

"And why wasn't that in the files the FBI gave us?" Sam wondered.

"Cause most people don't know about it," Roy said, offering nothing more as he headed for the door.

They followed him up one of the curving staircases, Callen glaring over at Deeks as he passed him. When they reached the second floor, open double doors revealed a long, empty room with pale green walls, heavily draped floor to ceiling windows and three French doors that opened onto a veranda. They dumped their gear on the hardwood floor as Blanchard pulled open the center one and led them out into the darkness to the balustrade. A pale moon illuminated several outbuildings and the unkept lawn that swept down to a line of Magnolia trees.

"Those trees line the bayou," Roy said. "And that bayou is our road north. Homer will meet us up a ways in the mornin' with a truck and a swamp boat. I'll introduce y'all, but from then on you're on your own."

"How far after that to reach Guidry's camp?" Callen asked.

"Better start callin' it The Brotherhood, man," he warned.

"How far?" Deeks repeated.

"I have no idea," he responded. "Never been there."

"Then how do we keep overwatch?" Sam asked, letting a bit of his anger show he was not pleased.

Blanchard didn't reply, just turned and walked back inside, leaving Deeks and Sam seething at his abrupt departure.

"I don't like this guy," Deeks fumed.

"Deeks, you need to calm down," Callen said, stepping around to face him. "Hetty said we could trust him and you need to do that."

"He's dropping you both off in the middle of nowhere with someone no one's ever heard of," Sam complained. "How do I track you? Or get to you if you need help?"

"It's deep cover Sam," Callen said easily. "Don't tell me you didn't know it would be like this."

"Yeah? Well I don't have to like it," he shot back.

"If you boys are finished bellyachin' you might want to see that tech room Eric was so excited about," Roy said gruffly, poking his head back out the door.

"You know Eric?" Callen asked, realizing they hadn't mentioned his name.

"He was my lifeline once, when Hetty had 'im doing odd jobs for her," he replied. "That was before she settled down at NCIS."

Having gotten their attention, they followed him to one end of the long room. The wall had a central bookcase with large, full-length portraits on either side. Roy stepped up next to the painting of a dark haired woman in a pale pink ball gown and pressed his thumb into a carved detail on the ornate gold frame. The hollow sound of a latch releasing echoed back from the bookcase, and the team smiled and Sam shook his head.

"No wonder Hetty likes you," Callen said.

"Man's gotta keep his secrets don't he?" Roy laughed, pulling the bookcase open on a room steeped in darkness except for the cool light emanating from a bank of computer screens.

He quickly flipped a switch to light the room and Callen let out a low whistle as he caught the surprised expressions on the faces of his partners.

"What were y'all expectin'? A roomful of Commodore Amigas?" Roy asked with a broad smile that faded with the nonplussed looks he was getting. "Dammit ta hell. You never even heard of those, have ya?"

"How old are you, man?" Deeks asked with a soft grin.

"Old enough to have wiped your butt when you were born," he replied easily. "Or kick your butt now if you don't wipe that shit faced grin off."

"A little sensitive about your age, dude?" Deeks asked quietly, a smile still flickering around the edges of his mouth.

"Experience comes with age, boy. Let's just say I got a shit load of experience," he replied solemnly. "Some good and some bad. Guessin' your experience started early just like mine."

Deeks just stared back at him, but the man had already turned to type something quickly on one of the keyboards, bringing the big screen on the wall to life.

"Good evening gentlemen," Hetty said from a chair in Ops. "Shouldn't you all be in bed by now? Or has Roy decided to regale you about his current obsession with genealogy?"

"Don't think they appreciate me just yet, Hetty," Roy replied.

"You are a bit of an acquired taste, Mr. Blanchard," she said with a tight smile. "But I think a bowl of your jambalaya might make a favorable impression."

"You want me to spoil 'em right off?"

"I think they could use a bit of spoiling before you send them up river," she replied. "Especially Mr. Deeks. He probably didn't mention he suffered a gunshot wound and a concussion on the undercover assignment he just completed. With his partner in the hospital and his brother missing, I believe it's probably made him a little difficult to deal with."

"He has been a mite prickly, as my mama would say," he replied, turning to visually assess Deeks.

"Is there any new intel, Hetty?" Deeks cut in wearily, ignoring the remarks.

"Yes, but we're not sure what it is," she replied. "Agent Slater interviewed Diane Atwood again, and questioned her about a map Joe managed to send to his handler right before he went missing. When Di told Michelle, she contacted me and I got Roger Stinson to release the map to us. It was marked up with quite of few locations in and around your area, but we have no idea what might be at those locations. Eric and Nell are researching it and so far all we know is that they are not possible targets because there is nothing at those locations that we know of. If we find out anything Eric will forward it."

"Is Di okay?" Deeks asked.

"She's fine Mr. Deeks. She got more out of Slater than he did out of her," Hetty replied.

"We need to know who Joe's handler was, Hetty," Callen said.

"And why they won't give us that information," Sam added.

"I'm working on it, gentlemen," she replied. "Now go have some jambalaya and get some rest. Tomorrow will come quite early if I know Mr. Blanchard."

"Hetty...you might want to send me that map," Roy said. "I'd like to take a shot at figuring it out."

"It's headed your way, Major Tom," Eric said, popping his face into view behind Hetty.

"Hey Eric. How ya doin' partner?" Roy asked quietly, his voice taking on a wistful warmth as he spoke. "Did ya get the pralines I sent?"

"Made them last as long as I could, man," Eric said quietly. "Which was about two minutes. Ouch...Nell just punched me for not sharing."

"I'll send a bigger batch next time," Roy promised. "You take care, son."

"You too, Major Tom," Eric said as the screen went dark.

"Major Tom?" Deeks asked.

"I'd been deep undercover for eight months with hardcore insurgents in Eastern Europe," he shared. "I got made and captured, along with my handler. We managed to escape, but I was pretty badly wounded and my handler was killed. There aren't many people I trust in this business, but I do trust Hetty. I called her and she hooked me up with Eric. He was my lifeline, and when I told him how messed up I was and how alone I felt he started calling me Major Tom. I'm embarrassed to say he even got me to sing a couple of stanzas of that song with 'im. That kid kept me sane. He located where I was and talked me through the area I was in, all the way to the exfil point. Don't ask me how, cause I don't remember a lot of it. I can never repay what he and Hetty did, so when she called me about your brother, I wanted to help because I've been there."

"Me too," Deeks said quietly, and stepped up to shake Roy's hand. "Sorry I've been such a prick."

"Don't make no nevermind to me, boy," he said. "But I won't hold it against ya."

"Was Hetty kidding about the jambalaya?" Sam asked.

"Bedrooms are at the other end of the ballroom," he replied. "Go get yourselves sorted out while I heat us up some of my famous shrimp jambalaya and pop the tops on a few beers."

"Famous? Seriously?" Deeks grinned. "Thought you were a secret agent."

"Don't have many friends and not much family left, but to those who've tried it...they always ask for more, includin' my mama," Roy said as he laughed and slapped Deeks lightly on the chest as he walked by. "So quit pissin' me off, or you ain't gettin' none."

"Never seen you pass on a free meal, Deeks," Sam said as he walked out.

Callen took Deeks' arm and turned him around, shoving him toward the door to follow Sam across the ballroom, picking up their gear and go-bags as they went.

"Think they'll be dancing later?" Deeks quipped.

"Laissez les bon temps roulez!" Roy shouted from the stairs.

"What the hell does that mean?" Deeks asked.

"Let the good times roll," Callen translated.

"Considering the circumstances, that's kind of an odd thing to say, don't you think?" Deeks questioned. "He's weird G."

"But a good weird," he replied.

"And you two aren't weird?" Sam asked as he began opening doors to rooms.

"I'm not weird," the two men said in unison.

"Delusional too," Sam laughed.

Deeks took the first room they came to, calling out his surprise to the others about how big it was. A rather ugly four-poster bed of dark oak dominated it, the bedding basically a couple of light blankets, but it was piled with large pillows that looked like heaven after the long day. The wallpaper had been stripped off in several places, revealing different layers that had been applied through the years, giving the room a creepy, haunted quality. The two overstuffed chairs in front of the white marble fireplace were newer, but looked well used, the seats sagging in the middle. Deeks dropped his go-bag on the low coffee table and walked to the window, pushing aside the worn drapes to stare out at the moonlit landscape and the slow moving bayou beyond the trees. Raising the window, he took in a breath of still, warm air and was enveloped in the much needed solitude the dimly lit room offered. He was dead tired, the stuffy room adding to his drowsiness and causing his headache to intensify. His arm had been throbbing since they arrived, and he realized the bandage hadn't been changed since early the day before. Tugging his t-shirt off over his head, he groaned at the weakening flare of pain the movement caused. The bandage was damp with sweat and he knew he needed to replace it, but his energy was fading fast and he was tempted to let it be.

"You're not trying to change that bandage by yourself are you?" Sam asked from the doorway.

"Wasn't thinking of changing it at all," Deeks replied, smiling at the disapproving look he received.

"Not happening Deeks."

"Looks like you came prepared," he replied with resignation, slumping into one of the chairs.

"Those bruises on your back look pretty deep," Sam said as he rummaged through his backpack for medical supplies. "Must have been quite an explosion. Any cracked ribs you forgot to tell us about?"

"Just bruised," he replied with a yawn.

Sam tended his wound with care and he almost fell asleep before he was finished. He sometimes forgot how kind Sam could be, long used to being on the receiving end of his reprimands.

"Think the comms will reach as far as we're going?" Deeks asked quietly.

"They better, or I'm coming to find you," he replied sharply. "I'm not gonna end up with three missing agents."

"You trust him?"

"Roy 'the dickwad' Blanchard?" Sam grinned.

"Do you?" His expression remained hard and questioning and Sam nodded slowly as his smile faded.

"He's the real deal, Deeks," Sam said confidently. "And right now we have no other option. Besides, Hetty trusts him and he's cooking us dinner. That combo is hard to beat."

"Okay."

Sam gripped his hand and helped him to his feet, but Deeks told him he'd meet him downstairs. He paused to listen to him call for Callen and to them discussing southern cooking as they headed down the stairs, before he wandered over to the window once again and pulled his phone, hesitating briefly before dialing Kensi's cell.

"Hey," her voice was soft and he felt a deep yearning to hold her.

"I miss you," he said.

"Is everything okay? Are you taking your meds?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "I just needed to hear your voice."

"The nurses love the nicknames you wrote on my cast," she said. "One of the orderlies even calls me Fern now."

"Not sure I like that."

"Makes me think of you every time he says it."

"Good to know, Fern," he said with a soft laugh. "You feeling better?"

"The doctor says everything looks good. He's letting me out in a few days," she told him. "Diane wants me to stay with her until I can get around on my own. I think she's looking for anything to keep her mind off what's going on."

"I'm glad you'll be together. She's a great nurse and she'll spoil you rotten," he replied, feeling calmer now that he knew someone would be watching over her.

"Please take care of yourself Deeks," she said, the worry evident in her voice. "I can't lose you, okay?"

"I like hearing you say that," he whispered with relief.

"You're everything to me, Deeks," she replied. "Don't you know that?"

"That's always been my hope, Sunshine," he said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she told him quietly and he knew she was smiling. "Now hurry up and come home."

"I'll see you soon and I'll be bringing Joe with me," he said boldly, wanting to believe it with everything he had.

"I'm counting on that...we all are."

"I might not be able to call you much after this," he reminded her. "We're leaving our cells here, but we're taking burner phones."

"Don't call if it puts you in danger," she said in her strict partner tone.

"Yeah, no...of course," he said softly, smiling at her familiar caution.

They talked for a little longer and then he reluctantly let her go. He stood by the window listening to the frogs and a persistent owl, letting his mind wander until it settled on the image of Joe racing his sorrel gelding toward the creek, laughing at him as he tried to catch up. Tomorrow he would take the first step to finding him and all he could do was hope he was still out there, alive and fighting to stay that way. He had to know they were coming. He had to know his brothers would never give up until they found him and brought him home. He had to know that.

When he heard footsteps in the long ballroom, he went to see who it was, hoping it was Callen so they could discuss their aliases. He came face to face with Roy Blanchard, who held out a bowl to him.

"You need to eat," he said.

"Smells good," Deeks responded, surprised by the man's kind hospitality.

"Best jambalaya you ever will have," he said.

"Only jambalaya I've ever had," Deeks said before slurping up a bit from the spoon. "Seriously? This is really good."

"You ain't a real trustin' fella, are ya?" He laughed. "Stay that way on this op and you just might survive."

The man turned abruptly without waiting for a reply and headed for the tech room, and Deeks followed, taking in mouthfuls of the spicy stew as he went. Roy put the map Eric had sent up on the big screen and stood staring at it.

"Any ideas?" Deeks asked between bites.

"The marks are in clusters. Five here...six over here...nine to the north," He replied, pointing out a few of the multiple marks made by Joe.

"There are fifty two marks total," Deeks finally said. "What do you think they mean?"

Roy kept silent, staring at the map as Deeks slid the half empty bowl of jambalaya onto the table next to the keyboard.

"You spill any of that sauce on this equipment and I'll...," Roy stopped mid sentence and began typing rapidly at his computer, bringing up a large map covered in colored dots. "Well I'll be a shitfaced monkey."

"Hate to break it to you Roy, but you already are," Deeks snarked. "Now what the hell are we looking at?"

"Ever heard of stripper wells?"

"Known a few strippers in my day..."

"Quit wise assin'," Roy snapped. "Those dots represent oil wells. Small ones. Stripper wells take out no more than ten barrels of oil a day, but the revenue from the wells marked on Joe's map would be substantial."

"That's how the terror cell is being funded," Deeks said quietly.

"We need to call Hetty," Roy ordered. "The hard part is gonna be finding out who controls them."

"You know Eric, but you haven't met Nell yet," Deeks said with a grin. "She's even smarter than Eric. I don't think those two will have any trouble tracking down the owners of those wells."

"Maybe, but I don't think it's gonna be as easy as you think," Roy said. "These bastards have been covering their tracks for quite awhile and I'm pretty sure they got someone inside that task force watchin' out for 'em."

"The same guy who betrayed Joe and Oscar."

"When he found out they were onto the stripper wells, he blew their cover," Roy reasoned.

"Why not before?"

"Maybe he didn't know they were undercover with Guidry," Roy replied. "Maybe he found out when the mole got caught."

"Find something?" Callen asked as he and Sam joined them, handing Deeks a beer.

After explaining what they'd discovered, Callen drew Deeks away and led him back out to the veranda. They stood in the mellow darkness and finished their beers, Deeks anger growing until he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"We need to get that sonofabitch G," Deeks exploded. "Whoever the hell he is, he has to answer for what he did. He's the fucking traitor, not Joe."

"Sam and Roy can follow that lead," he said calmly. "The only thing we need to concentrate on is finding out what happened to Joe."

"I know, but..."

"Don't you think Joe might want to be in on taking this guy down?" Callen asked, gripping his shoulder as he tried to reason with him.

"Of course."

"We owe him that, don't you think?" Callen reasoned. "We just have to find out where he is."

"How do we get Guidry to tell us that?"

"We use our charm," Callen replied with his widest smirk.

"I don't know about Jake Hale, but Jimmy ain't gonna be all that charming," Deeks said.

"Then we'll just have to hope the man likes to brag," Callen replied. "Jake strikes me as the kind of asshole who tempts men to want to one up him."

"And I think Jimmy is gonna taunt him into trying," Deeks said, flashing a tired, cocky grin.

"Just don't go too far, Jimmy," Jake warned. "He might not take to being taunted about his shortcomings."

"I just hope he has some."

Callen rested his hand on the back of his neck as they stood side by side staring out toward the distant lights of Thibodaux.

"Get some rest, Marty," Callen said softly. "Roy's getting us up at 0400."

"Jimmy ain't likin' the sound of that."

"Jimmy sounds like a lazy sonofabitch."

"Jimmy is."

"Not tomorrow he ain't."

"How far you get in school again?" Jimmy asked as they headed back inside.

"Hated school. Got outa there after seventh grade."

"So you're playing the dumber brother."

"The meaner one too," Jake warned with a smartass smirk. "Don't cross me little brother. Would hate to have to kick your ass in front of those self proclaimed patriotic militia boys."

"I'm just gonna laugh if you decide to try, cause that ain't gonna happen."

"You've always been tough," Callen said, suddenly solemn as he threw an arm across his shoulders.

Deeks stole a look at his face and knew he wasn't talking about his alias. He had survived some rough assignments and suffered terribly from violent, hate filled men bent on vengeance. Callen had helped him pick up the pieces afterward, as had Kensi and Joe. If he couldn't have Kensi by his side, he was proud to have G Callen along to watch his back. They made good partners and together they would find Joe, and Jimmy and Jake would kick anyone's ass who got in their way.

...

A ghostly moon was his only light as he stumbled forward, trying to hold back the gasps of pain that sounded loudly in his ears. The world was blurry, and Joe wiped at his eyes once again with the heel of his palm, unaware of how dirty his hands had become. Shivering even in the warm air, his skin was hot to the touch and he knew his fever had gotten worse, but he had found no place to rest so he pushed on. The shirt he had wrapped around his mangled arm was stiff and dark with dried blood, and he blearily looked down at it, walking straight into a post he failed to see and collapsing in a heap on the ground. Having no desire or energy left to move, he lay there in the matted grass and listened to the sounds of the night. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the glistening of stars, pretending he was at the ranch as he searched the blackness for the constellations his mother had taught him. He pretended she was hovering over him, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead, whispering lullabies as he babbled unintelligible words that blended with the high pulsing sound of crickets. His mind was muddled, and he assumed he was dreaming when a rusted mailbox above him caught his eye. The bent flag was up, silhouetted against the milky clusters of stars and for some reason he began to laugh softly as tears creased the dirt on his cheeks.

He had no idea how long he lay there, but something or some sound woke him from his delirium and he shivered in fear. He struggled to get away, unwittingly rolling over onto his wounded arm and his high-pitched scream split the air. Panting heavily he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the rolling waves of agony to subside, and when he opened them he saw the ragged cuff of a sweatshirt as a dark hand brushed the hair away from his eyes.

"Shhhh now. Easy. Ain't nobody gonna hurt you here."

The voice was deep and gravelly, the accent heavy with the local lilt. The man called to others and he felt himself being lifted and his mind told him to fight, but his body was uncoordinated, trembling with chills he couldn't stop. He could hear them talking, but his mind closed down and he drifted as they carried him in through a slapping screen door. There was light. Warm, blurry light and then softness as they laid him down. Then he floated away, searching for constellations and lullabies.

...

...


	7. Chapter 7

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 7_

...

A thin layer of mist floated just above the water, disturbed only by their passing, closing in behind them in wispy swirls matching Deeks turbulent thoughts. The sun had finally breached the horizon, suffusing the bayou with a warm yellow glow, and highlighting the ripples spreading out from the bow. Wooden docks reached out from the foggy banks, suggesting they were not as alone as he felt. Occasionally a barking dog would appear or a fisherman raising a hand in salute, but the drone of the motor was the constant as they traveled on into their second hour. They had loaded the narrow, old green boat in the dark, the metal cold to the touch as they found their places, Roy at the throttle, Callen in the middle and him in the bow, his back wedged against his backpack. No one said much except for a question or two once in awhile. Deeks had expected the land along the bayou to be sparsely populated, so he was surprised at the many houses they passed, some large old places like Oak Haven, some reminding him of the big houses back home, but most were simple, one- or two-story houses surrounded by farmland. They were passing through one of the small towns along the way when Roy gave them a heads up that they were close to the rendezvous point with Homer Moreau, the man who was going to introduce them to Antoine Guidry and The Patriotic Brotherhood.

"Time to drop into your aliases, boys," Roy said in a low voice. "Homer thinks he knows me real well, but he don't. I'll be playin' the good old boy I show to most of the local folks. Same name though."

"What do they think you do for a living?" Callen asked, as Roy throttled back, reducing his speed as the dock came into view up ahead.

"Most think I got family money, but others have the idea that I don't shy away from a shady deal here and there."

"What about Homer? Why do you trust him?" Deeks asked as he pulled his gray gimme cap down over his eyes.

"Did a favor awhile back for an old Navy buddy over in Lafayette. He's a detective there and needed someone to go undercover for a case he'd been workin'," Roy said quietly. "Some Texas boys had it in mind to start a drug ring in the area. Caused some trouble, got some men killed including one of Homer's friends. Homer decided he wanted revenge and went after the guys still standin'. I stopped him and got him outa there before he got himself into something he couldn't get out of."

"Did he know you were working for the cops?" Deeks asked.

"Nope."

"Does he think you approve of The Brotherhood?"

"No, we both agree they're bad news," Roy replied. "But I told 'im I met a couple of fellas lookin' to join up and had offered cash for an introduction. Told 'im there was money in it for him too."

"Dammit, Roy...don't you think that might be a red flag for Guidry?" Deeks asked, instantly pissed.

"Calm down kid. He ain't never gonna find out," Roy drawled out with a smile. "Homer knows if he tells his brother or Guidry he's a dead man."

"Thought you said he was honest?" Callen breathed out.

"Didn't say he don't like to make a buck or two," Roy said, grinning as he waved at a skinny guy in a red tank top and khaki cargo shorts standing on the end of the dock. "And boys...if ya get into a fight with any of them nutjobs, make it a street fight. Don't do nothin' fancy or show off any formal training, otherwise you're fucked."

The boat coasted up to the dock and Homer grabbed the line thrown to him and tied it off, shyly looking Jake and Jimmy over as he conversed with Roy in Cajun. The man had a tattoo just under his collarbone that said something in French, and a coiled snake on the side of his neck that was mostly covered by his stringy brown hair. He was deeply tanned and Deeks noticed a missing tooth when he grinned at something Roy said.

"Homer, meet Jake Hale and his brother Jimmy," Roy said.

"Got my money?"

"Nice to meet you, too," Jake said easily. "Pay the man, Jimmy."

Deeks scrounged in his backpack without taking his eyes off the man, finally handing over two hundred dollars in well-worn bills. They all waited as he slowly counted the money and Deeks could see the anger Callen's alias was stoking.

"Your brother an asshole too?" Jake Hale asked, fully into character, his voice low and mean.

"Don't know either one of you fuckers," Homer said quietly, but there was anger in his tone. "Stow your gear in the truck over there. Henry ain't gonna wait long."

The man shoved the bills in the front pocket of his jeans, raised his chin to Roy and walked off the dock. Deeks turned to pick up the gear and caught Roy watching him. He was a tough man to read, but he thought there was a hint of concern in his eyes, and that surprised him. There was a warning there as well that added to the familiar churning in his stomach at the beginning of any undercover assignment.

"Watch yourself, Jimmy," he whispered as he brushed past him to untie the boat. "Might want to activate your comms now. Don't want Sam to kick my ass when I get back. That man takes overwatch seriously. He put so much tracking spray on y'all you won't be able to sneak off for some alone time with your girlfriend for at least ten years."

"Thanks, man," Deeks said, laughing softly. "For all of it."

"I'll have gumbo waitin' when ya get back," he said.

"Do I want to know what's in gumbo?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Where's your sense of adventure, kid?" Roy asked with a fading grin. "Just get back safe and find out."

Deeks nodded, wondering how the two of them had formed an attachment when all they did was snipe at each other. It was there though, and he flashed the man a cocky grin as he hefted his backpack and the duffle full of guns. Putting on the face of Jimmy Hale, he turned and walked away, listening for the start of the engine and the departure of their last connection to the sane world, if what they did was sane. His brother Jake was already in the shotgun seat, his face a mask of cold boredom, so he threw their stuff in the back and climbed in after it. With his back against the cab he stared out at the bayou as Homer drove up to the road, watching Roy until the long green boat disappeared around a bend.

The sun beat down on him and he began to sweat in the growing heat and humidity, finally shedding his khaki jacket, leaving him in a black t-shirt he'd cut the sleeves off of. He'd argued with Sam at breakfast about re-bandaging his arm, and he'd finally given in, but the closer they got to the meet with Henry Moreau the more it felt wrong to have it on. It was too clean and too tidy. He figured an infection would be the least of his worries at this point, so he gingerly unwrapped it, sucking in his breath as the tender wound was exposed to the wind whipping past. The visible wound made him feel slightly vulnerable and that was unsettling, considering who they were about to meet.

He and Callen had talked deep into the night about their aliases, reading through the backstories Eric and Nell had set up for them, getting used to who they now had to be. Before they'd left Ops, it had been decided that Jake and Jimmy were on the run, but Callen felt uncomfortable with that scenario now that they were here, figuring Guidry wouldn't want to take on a couple of known fugitives. Hetty had agreed and Eric had modified their backstopping, taking out the BOLO on the Hales and adding their association with the militia group known as the Aryan Knights of America. Deeks had gone silent when Callen had suggested it. Whenever he thought about that undercover assignment the same feeling of desperation returned, a feeling that still occasionally haunted his nightmares. He knew their knowledge and experience with that group of disturbed hatemongers was a perfect fit for Jake and Jimmy Hale, but he had no desire to drag up all that pain or the unsettling fear that came with it. That militia leader had tried to break him down with grievous lies and terrifying violence to back them up and he'd come frightening close to succeeding. Callen understood his reluctance, having helped him get through it all and the later repercussions, and had repeatedly asked if it would be okay to use it for their legend. It was a tough decision, but desperate to find Joe, he had finally assented. He found some comfort in knowing he wasn't the same man he'd been back then. He was stronger, with a hell of a lot more experience, and a very personal reason for being here. These men had taken his brother, and as hard as it would be if Guidry questioned him about the Aryan Knights, he would spin it any way he needed to if it would help him find out what happened to Joe.

The two lane road they were on cut through clusters of houses, freshly tilled fields and growing crops, and industrial buildings having to do with the oil business or farming. He could see vast stretches of open space, some covered in dense forest as habitation grew sparse. He grinned when he saw a sign for a Jambalaya Street, but tensed as he felt the truck decelerate. They crossed over a bayou and immediately turned right and then onto a gravel track that led though a grove of trees to a couple of large metal buildings that looked abandoned. Homer stopped the truck and slowly got out and then let out a piercing whistle.

"Get on out now. Henry will come fetch ya," Homer said, waiting impatiently as they did as they were told.

When Deeks dropped their gear next to Callen's feet, Homer nodded and got back in his truck and drove around them and back out to the road, leaving them completely alone. They looked at each other and Deeks could see the subtle shift in Callen's demeanor, knowing he was still playing Jake Hale in case they might be overheard and Deeks followed his lead.

"Skittish shithead," Jimmy said, spitting into the sparse weeds around them.

"Ain't surprised. Come on. I don't like bein' in the open like this," Jake replied and picked up his backpack and walked toward the largest building.

The rusted yellow sign on the corrugated siding was riddled with bullet holes, and they couldn't quite make out the name, but it had something to do with an oil company. A heavy chain held the two sagging metal doors together, but there was no lock, so Jake slid the chain off and pushed one door open enough for them to get in. It was hot and stuffy inside, the air dusty and still. The roof was missing several pieces of corrugated, letting in wide shafts of light that highlighted stacks of rusted oil drums, farm equipment and old machinery draped in cobwebs and kudzu that had grown through a broken window. The cracked concrete floor sprouted weeds and was stained with oil and littered with broken bottles and crushed beer cans.

"Y'all lookin' for somethin'?"

They flinched at the sound of the man's voice, stopping as he walked from behind a stack of oil drums holding an AR-15.

"Lookin' for Henry," Jake said easily. "His brother Homer dropped us off."

The scape of boots on concrete came from all four corners of the building and Jake and Jimmy dropped their gear, warily watching as a big man with a shaved head stepped out of the pale shadows and flicked a cigarette in their direction. Jimmy heard movement behind him and shot a quick look at Jake before turning to face two men who were bigger than Sam.

"Is that all of you? Or you gonna keep playing hide and seek like little kids?" Jake snarled coolly.

Three more men appeared from behind a couple of old tractors, all armed and not the least bit friendly looking.

"They ain't very pretty are they Jake?" Jimmy snorted out a laugh.

"Watch your mouth, brother," Jake warned. "These men are patriots fighting for their rights as Americans."

"Which one of you is Henry Moreau?" Jimmy asked, looking chastised as he turned back to face the first man.

"Who the fuck wants to know?" The man spit out.

"I'm Jimmy Hale and this is my big brother Jake," he replied with a cocky grin. "Your brother said..."

"My brother talks out of his ass," Henry Moreau growled. "You armed?"

"Course we are," Jake said coldly.

They were quickly patted down and their guns taken as were their backpacks and the duffle bag, but they had expected that.

"We heard good things about The Brotherhood. You got a good reputation and the balls to do what needs doin'," Jake said, taking a few steps toward Henry, reaching out to shake his hand. "We just want to be a part of it."

Henry ignored the gesture as the circle of men closed in around them. Jimmy felt an itch to reach for his gun, but decided that would probably be an incredibly stupid move considering how badly outnumbered they were.

"Who told ya about The Brotherhood?" The man with the shaved head asked as he walked up to stand in front of Jimmy.

"Read some things on the deep web," Jake answered. "And talked to a friend from the Aryan Knights out in California. Said you might be recruiting."

"Who told you that?" Henry asked.

"We don't give out the names of our friends," Jake replied warily. "You're either recruiting or you're not. Which is it?"

"Was you a part of what Jacob Werner had going on out there in California?" Henry asked.

"His name was Meier, asshole," Jimmy barked. "And he woulda changed this country if he hadn't been sold out by an undercover federal agent."

"Take it easy Jimmy," Jake said softly, gripping his shoulder with concern. "Jacob was like a father to 'im."

Callen let his alias briefly slip and Deeks read it for what it was, a clear warning not to lose his focus or let his memories overshadow what they were doing.

"How come y'all weren't picked up by the Feds after they took out Brother Meier " Shaved head asked, his eyes boring into Jimmy.

"You ask a helluva lot of questions," Jake said coldly. "Mind tellin' us what the fuck your name is, or should I just call you asshole?"

"Name's Tino," he replied. "Call me an asshole again and I'll break your nose. Now, tell us why you ain't in Federal lockup."

"We were part of his brother Karl's sniper unit on our way into LA when the Feds hit," Jimmy answered softly. "During the firefight, Karl didn't even fire a shot, just took off runnin'...the fuckin' bastard. Jake got shot up pretty bad, but we managed to get away. Wanted to live to fight another day."

"I met Karl," a man behind him said. "He was a bastard."

"You boys on the run?" Henry finally asked.

"Nobody's got nothin' on us," Jake said. "We been checking out groups across the country trying to find a place where we can help this country get back to where it belongs. Like I said...The Brotherhood has the best rep."

"Then who the hell shot you?" Tino asked, grabbing Jimmy's wounded arm in a vise-like grip.

He nearly bit through his bottom lip trying not to scream, but his knees buckled with dizzying pain. He saw Jake move to help him, but he knew he had to stand up for himself or they would think he was weak. He reacted as he had as a teenager, when he and Ray would get into fights, pushing back as he swung his right forearm up hard and fast, smashing his elbow into Tino's upper lip. He heard the man grunt as blood gushed from his nose, but he had no time to enjoy it as he was grabbed from behind and wrestled to the ground. The kicks were hard and effective, cracking his already bruised ribs and taking his air, leaving him sprawled on the floor struggling to breathe. Dragged up to his knees, he searched for Jake, cursing loudly when he saw him lying unconscious on the dirty concrete with blood seeping from a cut on his head, and his hands being tied behind his back. He'd been holding in his anger since he'd seen Kensi disappear in a cloud of dust and fire, and it had continued to build when he found out Joe was missing and possibly dead. Now Callen was down. Three men were holding him, but his anger finally exploded and he began screaming curses, letting out all of his rage and frustration as he fought to get to his feet. Tino backhanded him, but he just laughed and spewed blood in his face, as he called him every insulting name he could think of. Someone behind him got him in a chokehold, effectively silencing his taunts and he finally slumped back to his knees.

"Tell me who shot you, you crazy fuck or I'll put a bullet in your big brother," Tino said, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand.

"Cops," he choked out.

"So y'all are wanted," Henry growled.

"No..."

"Why not?" Tino said, yanking him up in front of him.

"Cause we killed 'em both," he whispered. "No witnesses, man...no witnesses."

Tino dropped him back to his knees and the others shoved him to the floor and pulled his hands behind his back, tying them tightly with heavy twine. He could hear Henry and a couple of others arguing about what to do with them and he closed his eyes, suddenly worried he had failed. When he heard Sam's strong voice in his ear, he let out a shaky breath, forgetting his comm was on and that Sam had heard everything.

"You did good, Deeks," Sam said calmly. "I know how hard it was for you to talk about Jacob and Karl, but it was the truth and they heard that in your voice. I'll have Eric search for an unsolved killing of two cops and let you know the details."

He wanted nothing more than to respond, but couldn't risk even a whisper, so he laughed softly and swore to show he understood.

"What's so funny, smart ass?" Tino asked, pressing his boot into his shoulder and shoving him over onto his back.

"Shoulda known all that stuff people said about The Brotherhood was bullshit," he said, spitting out a gob of blood. "Our ancestor was Nathan Hale. He died fighting against tyranny. That's what folks said you were doing. Guess they were wrong."

"Gag and blindfold 'im, boys," Tino ordered. "We're headin' out."

The two big guys grabbed him and hauled him to his feet, and he saw Callen on his feet being gagged, but before he was blindfolded he saw certainty in his eyes and a calmness that gave him hope. His gag tasted of sweat and the blindfold was tied too tightly, cutting into the bruising around his eyes, but he didn't care, because he was pretty sure they were in. If they weren't these guys would just shoot them and leave their bodies for someone to find.

"I don't like you, kid," Tino said next to his ear. "But Guidry wants to meet you, so you're gonna live a tad longer. And just so you know. We are fightin' and plannin' something big that'll leave this pathetic government shakin' in its boots. Now move your sorry ass."

Shoved into the arms of a couple of men, he was dragged outside and into the hot sun.

"I'm still with you both," Sam said softly in his ear.

"Me too," Roy said in his distinctive drawl. "Workin' on my gumbo recipe for y'all, so don't do anything stupid. Shit...forgot you was tied up and gagged. That oughta keep ya out of trouble for a little while."

It's hard to laugh with a gag in your mouth, but he appreciated the kidding and would never be able to express how much it meant to hear their voices. Stumbling along blindfolded and unable to talk was disorienting and he fought the hint of fear stirring in his gut. Without those two men in his ear he might have given in to that fear, but their encouragement kept him hopeful. Joe had probably gone through the same thing when he'd gone undercover here, and that sharpened his mind and helped him focus. The men on either side of him kept silent until he smelled the water and heard the sound of feet on a wooden dock and the sudden roar of an outboard motor.

"Watch your step here," the man on his left said, not unkindly, as he led him onto the dock. "The boat's right in front of you, so take a long step over and down."

Callused hands grabbed him as he stumbled into the flat-bottomed boat. Before he could get his bearing, his feet were kicked out from under him and he was slammed facedown next to who he assumed was Callen. A heavy tarp smelling of fish was thrown over them both and the motor caught, sending vibrations along his body as they pulled away from the dock. He tried to get in a more comfortable position that might ease the pain from his cracked ribs, but it only got him a solid warning kick and an order to stay still.

Time passed slowly as the journey lengthened, and the heat became stifling and close to unbearable under the tarp. Sweat dripped down his cheeks and neck, soaking the gag and working its way under the blindfold, stinging his eyes. The movement of the boat and the constant drone of the motor lulled him toward sleep and he finally passed out, waking when they slowed and the men began to call out to someone in Cajun. When the tarp was pulled off, he was yanked to his feet and dragged over the side of the boat into knee-deep water before he was dumped onto solid ground. He felt Callen dropped beside him and heard him groan softly, and he worried he might be seriously hurt. He heard men walk past him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying and his mind drifted. Finally there was silence, and he sensed they were alone, but couldn't be sure.

"Moan or something so I know you're still alive," Sam all but shouted into his ear.

He heard Callen move and turned his head towards him and they both moaned at the same time, getting a soft thank you from their concerned partner. Callen sounded as if he was in pain and he wondered just how hard they had hit him. Dammit. He wished he could see him, needing to hear his voice, even if it was to chastise him for antagonizing Tino. He reminded himself how tough the man was, so he took comfort in that and the touch of his foot against his, tapping gently over and over until he realized it was Morse code and that he was asking if he was okay. He quickly tapped back that he was good and asked how he was. "Pissed", came the tapped response. "You?" "Same." "Be good", Callen tapped out a little harder than before. "You heard?" A hard tapped "yes" made him smile that he'd found a way to show his anger over his violent run-in with Tino. "Want them to know I'm tough", Deeks tapped firmly. "I want you alive, brother," he tapped back gently. "Okay, old man." "Wise ass."

He drifted in and out of consciousness from the heat and increasing pain in his ribs as the day passed, occasionally tapping out some curses and insulting names for their captors just to pass the time and let off steam. Maybe they were just going to let them die of heat stroke, which wasn't too far fetched if they didn't get some water soon. But still, no one came and he simply had to endure the flashes of pain and the numbness of his hands and bites from insects that seemed quite fond of his arms and the back of his neck. Not being able to scratch was driving him crazy, and he would occasionally try to shake them off like his old friend Monty, but after awhile it hurt too much and he gave up.

Callen woke him with a kick in the ankle, and he raised his head, smelling the cooling air around him.

"Catch me them boys, mes amis," a gravelly voice shouted from somewhere above them.

He was almost past the point of caring when the men came to drag them up a low slope, dropping them in the dust once again. When he was yanked up on his knees, he failed to stop a low groan and he heard someone comment and the others laughed. There were a lot of voices. Rapid, unintelligible Cajun flew back and forth, the gravelly voice loud and angry and final sounding. Then the gag was untied and he spit out the foul remains of the smelly rag. He heard the soft whine of a dog and sensed a presence and then a hand on his injured arm, and he tensed in anticipation of more pain as a thumb brushed across the still tender gunshot wound.

"You make the miserie, huh boy?" the man with the gravelly voice asked and then slapped him lightly on his bruised ribs. "Fool with them cops and paid the price. But you shoot 'em dead, yeah?"

"Yes sir, we did," Jimmy said with pride.

The man clapped him on the cheek and then said something in Cajun and his blindfold was undone. He squinted in the sudden light, even though the sun was low, and stared into the face of a killer. Guidry was big and ugly, with large ears and course skin. His eyebrows were heavy and black as was his long, slicked back hair tucked behind his ears. His beard was sparse and untrimmed, and a scraggly mustache framed large pale lips. Intense hazel eyes looked back at him, cunning and intelligent.

"You and yore brother like rougarouin, doncha boy?" He asked, and laughed when he saw that he didn't understand. "Means causin' trouble."

"Them cops had no reason to come at us," he replied. "Had to defend our rights."

"So ya don't mind killin' ta do dat?" he asked, scrutinizing him carefully.

"No sir."

"Don't lie ta me, boy, ya hear," he said, his eyes darkening as he grabbed his jaw in a powerful grip. "Don't like liars. I sic my dogs on liars."

Deeks closed his eyes and fought to control his emotions, afraid his own eyes would betray the hatred he was feeling. The man shoved him back and moved over in front of Jake, pulling the gag from his mouth.

"You a liar, big brother?"

"Depends on who's askin'," Jake said, his voice rough and low.

The slap was hard and he stumbled, but righted himself defiantly.

"I am Antoine Guidry and ya best not disrespect me, or I'll kick the shit outa your little brother. Understand me, boy?"

"Got it."

"Tino said you was shot up when them Feds took down The Aryan Knights," he said. "That right, Jake?"

"Yeah."

Guidry grabbed the front of Jake's shirt with both hands and ripped it open, and Jake smirked as if he knew what he was looking for.

"Old bullet holes convincin' enough?" He growled.

Guidry yanked off his blindfold and stared at him and then took a step back, his eyes narrowing.

"Coo-wee. Now tell me how in hell ya survived that?" Guidry asked, his suspicion obvious. "Cause if ya went to a hospital the Feds woulda found ya. Why didn't they?"

"Jimmy got me to an old friend who runs a clinic in East LA," he said, looking over at his brother. "She patched me up and hid us both until the smoke cleared."

"Call 'er," Guidry ordered, surprising them both.

"You think I'm lyin'?" Jake challenged.

"Y'all better hope you're not...now call her," he said with a nasty smile. "Otherwise..."

At Guidry's nod, Henry slammed the butt of his rifle down between Jimmy's shoulder blades, knocking him to the ground.

"Okay, okay," Jake shouted.

"Bring 'im the satphone," Guidry ordered.

Jimmy barely heard Sam's reassurance in his ear, but he knew it would be Hetty Jake called and that she would be prepared for the phone call. When it went through, Guidry grabbed the phone as soon as Jake said his name.

"Who dis?" Guidry spat out.

"Tell me who you are first," Hetty replied calmly and Deeks was thankful Sam had patched him through to listen. "I know Jake Hale, but I don't know you. For all I know you're a Federal Agent and I don't talk to Federal Agents unless forced to do so. Do you have Jake and Jimmy in custody?"

"Ya think I'm a Fed?" Guidry sounded astonished.

"One can never be too careful in our line of work," she replied politely. "Now tell me your name or this conversation is over."

"I ain't no Fed, lady," he snarled. "I'm Antoine Guidry."

"Of course," Hetty replied warmly. "I've heard of you. You head up La Fraternité Patriotique. I'm very proud to meet you Mr. Guidry. Jake and his brother have wanted to meet you for some time."

"Best tell me who ya are or little Jimmy's gonna get his ass kicked some more, ya hear?"

"I'm Sylvia Martin, an old friend of the Hale family," she replied.

"Jake claims you're a doctor?"

"A surgeon to be exact, Mr. Guidry," she said proudly. "And I offer my services to any man or organization like yours, working to make this a country we can be proud of again."

"Not sure I believe these here boys," he blustered.

"Those two almost died fighting for what was right," she said. "You should be proud to have them. They will fight for their brothers in arms without hesitation. Liberté de l'Oppression, Mr. Guidry."

Guidry remained silent for some time before lowering the satphone, his eyes darting from Jake to Jimmy who had managed to get up on his knees. Deeks closed his eyes and dropped his head, unsure how much longer either one of them had to live. Sneaking a look at Callen, he could see he wasn't sure which way this would go either, his eyes turbulent with emotion and a hint of regret. If he had to die today he was honored it would be with his brother by his side.

"Love ya, brother," Deeks said in a broken voice.

Callen's eyes filled with sudden tears and then he smiled and nodded.

Guidry tossed the satphone to Tino and stood staring at them as a couple of large dogs milled around. Henry was smiling smugly as he came to stand in front of them, his weapon at the ready. Callen and Deeks simply ignored them, keeping their eyes on one another as they awaited their fate.

"Cut 'em loose, mes amis," Guidry ordered and turned and walked away.

...

...


	8. Chapter 8

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 8_

...

 _Rated M_

...

The shrill yelping of a dog startled him awake and he sat up too quickly, gasping at the sharp pain radiating across his chest. It was dark and hot and he gripped the edge of the cot, waiting to catch his breath and orient himself. He calmed when he saw Callen's silhouetted form at the small open window, leaning his head on his forearm as he looked out at the low burning bonfire at the center of camp. The sound of laughter lingered after Guidry's angry shouts and curses, and he heard Callen swear softly.

"The bastard wants to kill that dog," Callen said softly, his voice filled with loathing.

Deeks felt his stomach revolt at the wonton cruelty of the man and he stumbled outside, leaning over the edge of the porch to vomit. Wrapping his arms around his sore ribs, he leaned his shoulder against the side of the roughhewn cabin, panting through the lingering pain and shivering as he broke out in a cold sweat. He flinched when he felt hands grip his bare shoulders, but relaxed as much as he could when he realized it was Callen.

"You understand Cajun?" Deeks asked weakly.

"The gist of it. You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You feel hot," he pressed.

"It is hot," he snapped in irritation.

"You know you have a fever, so quit fighting me," Callen replied sharply. "Take a couple of aspirin."

"I'm fine," he insisted, sounding just like Kensi and he saw Callen smirk.

"You weren't earlier," Callen said softly. "Tomorrow won't be much easier. I know your ribs are cracked so you really need to rest while you can."

He knew Callen was right. After they had cut him loose, he'd collapsed onto his elbows and knees, his head pressed into the crook of his arm, his muscles quivering from the sudden release of long held tension and pulsing pain. When he'd tried to stand, the world spun dangerously and he had reached out for Callen, who held him up, but with effort, both of them suffering from the rough treatment. They had leaned on each other as much as they could as they here herded toward the cabin, trying to ignore the looks they received that made them very aware of just how little they were trusted.

The rustic old cabin they'd been assigned was at the far edge of the camp, set apart from the others, with a small covered front porch, a small table and two basic cots inside. The windows were just holes cut into the roughly sawn wood siding and the entrance had no door, effectively negating any privacy. Mosquito netting was the only covering for the windows and the door, but it had been so hot tonight that they had opted for letting in as much air as possible along with the bugs.

They'd been given a couple of bottles of water when they'd gotten to the cabin and one of the men had brought them a tin plate of cold chicken, which Deeks was now sorry he'd eaten. The man who'd brought it had been the one who'd met Karl Meier, and they had talked briefly. His name was Silas and he'd been friendly enough, but his comments were more than distasteful even though Jimmy went along with everything he said. He was someone to cultivate and Jake had been particularly friendly to the young man.

"There were a couple of guards earlier. One out front and one in back, hiding in the trees," Callen said. "Finally left to join the party. Must have thought we were asleep."

"Have you slept?"

"No."

"Why the hell are they guarding us?" Deeks wondered. "We don't even know where we are."

"Probably paranoid."

"Should be."

"I think he's pissed Joe got away," Callen whispered close to his ear as they sat side by side on the porch.

"You really believe he escaped?" Deeks couldn't hide his dejection, his uncertainty and fear growing now that he had met Guidry.

"Until we know for sure...we have to believe it," Callen replied. "Now get some sleep. There's only a few hours till daybreak."

"Sshhh," Deeks said, raising his hand as something moved slowly toward them through the bushes in front of the cabin.

The whimper was soft and filled with pain and Deeks knew instantly that it was the dog Guidry had beaten.

"Any of that chicken left?" He whispered before sliding off the porch to the ground.

"Not sure this is a good idea."

"Get the chicken, brother," Deeks said firmly. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"You know that doesn't always work, right?"

"Chicken."

"Is that a question or an order?"

"Now who's being a wiseass?" Deeks grinned and crept slowly toward the trembling dog.

The animal was a large hound, fawn colored with gray spots on its back, a white ruff and wounded yellow eyes. Its growl was low, but ended in a long whimper as Deeks knelt down in front of it.

"It's okay buddy. I won't hurt you," he kept his voice soft and warm as he waited for Callen to bring the chicken.

There was a gash along its shoulder and blood colored the white fur around its neck. Favoring its hind leg, the injured dog tried to slink away, but stopped when Callen dropped down beside Deeks and handed him large chunks of chicken. The animal sniffed the air and its tongue curled up over its nose at the smell. Whimpering and hesitant, the animal shied away when Deeks held out the first piece, limping back into the bushes to watch.

"Hey buddy, look...it's good," he whispered, biting into the chicken and licking his lips with a moan of his own.

The dog pricked its long ears and took a tentative step forward, stretching its snout toward the proffered meat, finally snatching it away and quickly swallowing it down. Softly whining, it came closer and Deeks held out piece after piece to the obviously famished animal. When the chicken was gone Deeks wiped his greasy fingers down his bare legs and struggled to his feet. He smiled at Callen when he felt a tickle as the hound's cold nose sniffed at his thighs. Slowly backing away, he turned toward the steps and the dog followed him up on the porch and into the darkness of the cabin.

"Bet you're thirsty too."

He picked up one of the tin cups from the tiny table in the corner and poured in what remained of his water. Lowering himself gingerly onto the closest cot, Deeks held the cup between his knees as the dog noisily lapped it all up. Once finished the dog looked up at him expectantly, it's nose twitching and its tail thumping the floor as it sat there panting, obviously still hungry.

"That was the last of the chicken," Callen informed him.

The dog looked between the two men as if it understood and turned to leave, stopping only when it heard voices.

"We got company," Deeks breathed out, as the dog backed into his leg and looked up at him.

Deeks lifted the corner of the thin blanket he'd tossed aside during the night and the dog turned and slunk underneath the cot. He pulled the blanket further off the edge of the bed, effectively hiding the animal and he heard it groan softly and finally settle. With his elbows on his knees Deeks hung his head as a man and a woman stepped up onto the porch.

"Y'all still awake?" The man asked, sweeping the flashlight back and forth across the room as if looking for something.

"What gave it away?" Jake asked.

That seemed to confuse the man, but then he grunted and scowled at him. "Guidry wants ta see ya, so get on outa here now."

Deeks stole a quick look at Callen, knowing neither one was wearing an earwig and pushed up off the cot. Hoping to create a distraction so at least Callen might have a chance to slip a comm in his ear, he stepped up in front of the man.

"He don't want you," the man said. "The girl here will keep ya company. She ain't much ta look at, but don't spec you'll be lookin' at 'er face much."

Deeks had no idea what to say, so he just stared at the woman and she shyly looked away. He knew she was a plant, but he was Jimmy and rejecting her would be highly suspect. It was a move he never expected and looked over at Callen again, who clinched his jaw and shrugged his shoulders before pulling a t-shirt over his head and buttoning his jeans.

Jimmy suddenly smiled widely at the militiaman and threw an arm across his shoulder and turned him toward the woman on the porch.

"What's her name, man?" he asked. "Hell, I don't even know yours. Might as well get to know each other."

"They call me Pea," the heavy-set man replied.

"Now is that with two 'ees' or an 'a'," Jimmy asked, his face mockingly serious.

"You tryin' ta be funny?" The man scowled.

"Just kiddin', dude," he replied quickly. "Didn't mean nothin'. Knew a man once who peed a lot. Was supposed to drive the getaway car in a heist, but the whole gang got caught cause he was usin' the facilities at the gas station they was robbin'."

"That's fuckin' funny if it's true," Pea said with a slow smile.

"It's a good story. Don't matter if it's true or not," Jimmy said as he stared at the girl. "My daddy told me to never let the facts get in the way of a good story, and I always listened to my daddy."

"He always gets the girl, too," Jake laughed and slapped Jimmy lightly on the cheek, a warning flaring in his eyes.

"That's cause I'm the hot one," Jimmy grinned cockily, fairly sure Callen was now on comms.

"You're a smartass, brother," Jake said as he walked out onto the porch. "Don't do nothin' I wouldn't do."

Deeks watched the beam of the flashlight until it disappeared behind the main house where Guidry was staying. He didn't like that they were being separated, worried about what Guidry might have in store for Callen. They both knew their loyalty would probably be tested for a while, and he figured this was just the beginning. Callen would face Guidry alone and he would have to play his part by entertaining a woman he had no interest in. No way was he wearing an earwig tonight and no way was he giving Callen any details while he was still on comms. Knowing it wasn't something he could get out of and that Guidry would expect the woman to report everything, he decided he better make the best of it.

"You comin' in, darlin'? Or playin' hard to get?"

The woman edged halfway inside the doorway, her form barely visible in the darkness. The moon was rising, so there was some light, but she wouldn't look directly at him and her long hair hid most of her face, so he had no way to determine her age. The flowered dress she wore was thin, low cut and very short and he was pretty sure she wore no bra. Her hands gripped the doorway as he approached and he heard her catch her breath. She was scared, and he felt her tremble when he touched her.

"Ain't you interested, sweetheart?" Jimmy asked softly. "I ain't mean or nothin'. What's your name?"

"Addy."

"That's a pretty name," he said, as he lifted her chin so he could see her face.

"Don't!" She pushed his hand away and he could hear tears in her voice. "Please. I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt me."

He took her hand and turned her toward him and the soft light of the moon caught the bruises that colored her left cheek. Her lip was quivering, but she looked back defiantly, trying to stand her ground.

"Who hit you?" He asked, gently cupping her cheek.

"Whatta you care?"

"Just don't seem right to hit a girl is all."

"Well, it's pretty damn common 'round here," she spit out, but then put her hand over her mouth as if she'd said something she wasn't supposed to.

"I won't tell if you won't," he smiled at her and she seemed to relax a bit.

"They're watchin' you know," she whispered.

"Lookin' for pointers I'm guessin'," he said with a cocky grin, making her smile.

She was young, with a wide and rather plain face. Her hair was light brown and wispy, softly curling around her jawline, and her lips were small and pouty, giving her an innocent but sexy look. He wasn't sure if she was playing him or not, but he wasn't about to hurt her whether it made Guidry suspicious or not.

"You want to come in?" He asked gently. "Or are they supposed to see what happens?"

"I'll get in trouble if they don't." She was truly trembling now, so he knew she was being honest.

He bent down and kissed her and she gasped when he leaned back to look out over the camp, suddenly angry that they were using the girl this way. She reached up and turned his face back toward her as she slipped her sleeveless dress off her shoulder and exposed her breast. His heart quickened at her boldness, his eyes fixed on her large, rosy nipple. She pulled his head down and he breathed in deeply before gently lifting her breast to his mouth. He felt her shiver as she pressed her body into the kiss, panting in his ear as she nuzzled his neck. He felt her fingers flutter over his shoulder and down his arm, and he decided Guidry's men had seen enough, so he lifted her in his arms and carried her inside. He didn't expect them to come in for a closer look, so he thought they were safe until the dog crawled out from under the cot to confront them, its yellow eyes shining in the dark room.

"Hey buddy...it's okay," trying to soothe the dog as it stiffened and growled.

"Her name's Punkin," Addy said and struggled out of his arms. "She's mine. Guidry beat her to show me what would happen if I didn't come up here tonight."

She knelt in front of the dog and it leaned into her touch as she ran her hands over its face speaking softly to it in Cajun.

"She won't bite ya," she said, smiling for the first time. "She ain't vicious like Antoine's hounds."

"I know. Gave her some chicken and hid her under the bed," he saw her face soften as he spoke and he thought she might be someone he could cultivate for information.

"How do you know Guidry?" He ventured.

"He's my daddy's cousin," she said as she stood up, gently fondling the dog's ear.

"Does he know you're here, with Guidry?"

"Naw. He works on an oil rig out in the Gulf," she said quietly. "He's gone half the year."

"What about your mom?"

"She's the one who brung me here," she said. "She does whatever Antoine wants her ta do. She's got a thing for Tino...who's a bastard, by the way."

"How old are you Addy?"

"Just turned nineteen," she replied proudly. "Gonna try and go ta college in Baton Rouge, if I can find a job ta pay for it. I just love ta read. Thought maybe I could be a school teacher or something."

"I think you'd make a good one."

"You gonna fuck me now?"

The girl's bluntness stunned him and he felt his stomach twist and a nasty taste rose up in the back of his throat. The girl reached for him when she saw him hesitate and he curse silently, unsure what he should do. She was a kid, yet he had no idea what she would tell them if he didn't have sex with her.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he murmured. "You can just take Punkin and go."

"Doncha like me? I like you. You're nice," She said quietly, boldly running her hand up his bare chest as she licked her upper lip. "I ain't a virgin ya know."

Her tongue was hot as it swirled around his nipple and he held his breath as her hands slipped around his waist and down inside his boxer shorts to grip his ass. He silently asked for Kensi's forgiveness as his body responded, wondering if he would ever tell her about any of this. The dog part maybe...but this? Probably not.

"You're kinda shy," she said as she looked up at him. "I got good boobs. You'll like 'em."

She led him to the side of the cot furthest from the door and slid her dress off, leaving herself completely naked. When she sat on the edge she pulled his boxers down and began to stroke him.

"Slow do, sweetheart," he said, his voice thick as he knelt down between her legs. "It's better of you don't rush."

Her large breasts were silky in his mouth and he flushed with sudden want, suckling and petting her until she was gasping. Pushing her down on the bed, he spread her legs and ran his hands slowly up and down the inside of her thighs, his mouth following with wet kisses. She whimpered as his tongue teased her clit and then began licking harder and harder until she was pulling at his hair and moaning. He lifted her further up onto the cot and slid on top of her, kissing his way up her slender body to her now rigid nipples. He lightly touched the tip of his tongue to one as he roughly brushed his thumb across the other, and she moaned deeply as he worked, bucking uncontrollably beneath him as he brought her close to the edge of release. He entered her hard and she cried out, gripping his arms with clawing fingers as he rhythmically moved until they climaxed in unison, leaving them both sweating in the dark, humid room. Rolling off of her he pulled her to his chest, holding her gently as his breathing slowed.

"Do it again," she whispered as she edged up and kissed him softly. "I ain't never had it that gentle before. I like it."

He smiled sadly at her and gripped her ass as he took the breast she offered in his mouth. He brushed his fingers through the nest of hair between her legs and pressed them inside, igniting her passion once again. Her back arched as he massaged her ass and stroked her until she was jerking against him, her arms hanging limply above her head and her mouth open, gasping as she came.

"Shit damn," she whispered as she curled against his side. "You're the best fucker I ever did have."

"Good to know," he laughed softly.

"Maybe they'll let me come see ya again," she said. "Like a regular thing or somethin'."

"Maybe they will."

"Did with that other fella," she said quietly. "He was nice too, but not as sexy as you."

"What was his name," he asked, holding his breath and almost choking on the words.

"Phil Beeler," she replied sleepily. "But he's gone now."

Enormous relief flooded through him at the familiar alias that brought back tough memories of the case that had brought him and Joe together. The question that came next was the hard one. His mouth suddenly became dry and he hoped she couldn't feel his heart racing as he asked it.

"Where'd he go?"

"Not sure. Nobody would say nothin'," she answered innocently. "Antoine was shit mad though. If ya ask me, they don't know where the hell he is. They're all still lookin' for 'im, I think, and if they ever do find 'im, they'll kill 'im for sure, just like they did the other one."

"What'd he do?"

"Antoine called him a rat," she said. "I wasn't here when it happened, but Mama said he set the dogs on the other guy...Oscar I think his name was. And he was Cajun. I hope they don't find Phil, though. He was good to me. Don't care what they say he did."

"You're a good person too, Addy," Jimmy said quietly, wiping at the tears pooling in his eyes as he sat up. "You better go and hide Punkin. She's a good ol' girl. Would hate to see Guidry hurt 'er again."

She kissed him quickly and smiled, jumping up and pulling on her dress, snapping her fingers at the dog to follow as she wandered out the door. Deeks fell back on the cot and turned over to bury his face in the thin blanket. He felt totally exhausted, but unbelievably exhilarated, whispering his brother's name again and again into his clenched fists. When Callen found him there and shook him awake, he came up fighting.

"What's happened? Did they hurt you?"

"He's alive, G," Deeks whispered, standing and pulling him into a fierce hug. "Joe's alive."

...

His first feeling was fear. His second was confusion because he couldn't see the sky. Then his body caught up to his mind and a deep rolling pain left him gasping and calling out familiar names. Shivering heat left him reeling, his eyes unfocused as he flailed to free himself from the covering holding him down. The rapid movement sent another wave of pain through his weakened body and he began to plead with the blurry figures surrounding him. Soft murmuring voices confused him more, and he struggled to move away from the dark hands that reached for him.

"Ssshhh now...ssshhh," the whispering sound was close and the voice kind.

A cold cloth was laid across his forehead, held there by a wrinkled black hand that belonged to the cooing voice above him. The sound and the kindness calmed him, and he closed his eyes, thankful for the respite.

"Who are you?" Joe croaked out weakly, unsure if they could even hear him.

"We's the Toussaints," a woman said. "Iris and Augustine. He found you out by the mailbox and my grandsons carried you on in. I put a poultice on that nasty lookin' wound on your arm. Should help draw some of the poison out, but you need to drink this now. It'll help with the pain and fever."

She lifted his head and held a cup to his lips, urging him to drink. It was hot and bitter, and he choked on it, but the old woman was persistent, forcing him to drink it all.

"You rest now, boy," she said softly.

"He should tell us his name, doncha think Gramma?" This voice was sharp and slightly angry. "He could mean trouble for us."

"Now Sebastien, you 'member what the Lord said," a deep voice called out. "What y'all do to the least of these, y'all do unto me."

"The law might not see it that way, Papa T," another man said. "He could be a fugitive."

"You wanted by the law, man?" A rough voice asked from the foot of the bed. "Cause if you are, my grandparents don't need the trouble. We woulda been better off tossing him in the bayou, instead of bringing him inside."

"Xavier! Shame on you. What kinda mean thing is that to go and say," Iris scolded. "The man is hurt. We be good Christians, now. The good Lord put him in our way and I won't turn him out 'cause you afraid to do the right thing."

"What they teachin' you up in that college, son?" Augustine asked sharply.

"I don't want to cause you any trouble," Joe said. "I'll go if you'll just let me rest here tonight."

"You aren't staying unless you tell us who the hell you are," Xavier asked.

"Don't you swear in my house, boy," Iris snapped.

"You put your foot in it this time, brother," a man said with a laugh.

"Shut up, Buford," Xavier shot back. "You know I'm right. Don't they have enough trouble as it is without taking on some injured white man shows up out of the blue?"

"Who made you king, boy?" Augustine said, his powerful voice filling the small room. "I am a man of God and I tried ta raise you three to be the same. Y'all listened to me preach every Sunday of your lives and y'all didn't understand one word. Wanting to cast out a wounded man instead of being a good Samaritan. I'm ashamed of y'all."

Joe could feel the tension in the room and suddenly wasn't sure if he could trust them or not. The grandsons were likely to give him up if Guidry's men threatened them.

"I'll go," he whispered and struggled to get up.

"Wait! You're with that militia group aren't you?" Xavier asked angrily, ignoring his offer.

"You know about The Brotherhood?" Joe asked, his voice shaky and full of fear.

"This ain't the moon, man," Buford said lightly. "They were here yesterday asking if we'd seen a white man."

"I'm guessing that's you," Sebastien said softly.

"You pissed off the wrong guys if you're runnin' from those scary dudes," Buford added.

"You brought those crazy radicals right to our grandparents' door," Xavier's accusation was the sad truth and Joe knew he had to leave.

As he struggled to get up a strong hand gripped his shoulder, and he was too weak to push it off. Iris held him in place, looking him straight in the eye and told him to stay put.

"You ain't going nowhere, young man," she said firmly. "This is my house, and you my guest. Now, tell these boys your story and be done with it."

He hesitated, unsure he could trust them. He was a dead man if they gave him up, but Guidry would kill them all if he found him here. They were right to be afraid of the terror that trailed him and he made another attempt to get up and leave.

"You afraid, boy?" Augustine asked softly as he pulled a chair up next to the bed, and pushed him back down. "Your sins come home ta roost?"

"I won't let y'all put him out. He's feverish," Iris said firmly, as if that would make the difference. "He ain't a bad man. I'd see it in his eyes if he was."

"You can't know that Gramma," Xavier insisted. "You know what the Brotherhood's done around here. He's running from them for a reason. You think they won't hurt you if they find him here?"

"He's right," Joe told them. "You should let me go. They want me and won't think twice about killing everyone of you for helping me."

"What did you do to them folks, boy? Why they after you?" Augustine asked quietly. "Seek forgiveness from the Lord, son, for whatever sins you committed. God brought ya to us for a reason. You can trust 'im and you can trust us."

Joe closed his eyes, wondering if that were true. These were kind people and he was grateful for what they had done for him. Their grandchildren were afraid for them and he understood that, so he felt the truth could do no harm.

"My name is Joe Atwood..."

"That's not who those men were looking for," Xavier interrupted, looking confused.

"They would have asked about a man named Phil Beeler," Joe said. "That's who I told them I was. I'm an undercover federal agent."

"Didn't see that comin', did ya brother?" Buford laughed and slapped Xavier on the back.

"Somebody gave us up," he mumbled, suddenly feeling woozy. "They killed my partner...tried to kill me...I escaped."

"How long you been out there?" Sebastien asked.

"Not sure...they been tracking me...three days...maybe more," Joe was starting to feel the effects of whatever Iris had given him and his words became slurred and his mind muddled.

"One of their dogs caught 'im," Buford's voice sounded far away. "Had to be one of those Catahoula curs. Good trackers."

"How'd you get away from the dog?" Xavier asked.

"Gator..."

Nothing else came out and he began to shiver, his back arching as a stab of pain caught him unprepared. There was something important he had to ask, but he couldn't grasp it, his mind now cloudy and his thoughts hiding just out of reach. Iris began shushing him as he moaned with each pulse of pain, struggling to find the question he needed to ask as his world slowly drifted toward darkness.

"Phone...?" He murmured, smiling now that he had captured the elusive word. "Need to call in...need..."

"No signal out here, man. Sorry."

"You sleep now, Joe Atwood," Iris ordered. "We'll figure things out in the mornin'."

...

...


	9. Chapter 9

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 9_

...

A stream of clouds slowly scudded across the moon, darkening the landscape and the white facade in the distance, but he could still see the long line of oaks that distinguished the old place. Elan blew out his breath and tried to loosen the tension that still held his muscles in knots, but he was certain that wouldn't happen until he got some good news about his cousin. The shock of getting the news that Joe was missing when he was so far away in Normandy had left him somber and silent until he saw how it had affected his son. He should never have told him. Soldier had finally taken to having a solid, loving family, one he could count on, one that would care for him and never hurt him, and so the news of his Uncle Joe just disappearing had stunned and confused him. The confusion had hardened into distrust before Elan had realized what was happening. Their confrontation had been rough on both of them. He could find no words that would convince the boy that they would find Joe and bring him home, and Soldier angrily challenged him on that and he found he couldn't argue with the kid's logic. He never lied to his son and that's exactly what Soldier accused him of doing. They were both angry and it was only Luc's calm observation that all their yelling was upsetting the horses that had ended their shouting match. Luc Caron, an expat close to ninety, had formed a deep bond with Soldier and the old man had simply pulled the boy into a hug and asked if he trusted his father. Soldier had looked up at him with those wide dark eyes and nodded, and it broke him.

He couldn't contemplate a life without Joe. They had been close since the day they'd met. He had been the same age as Soldier was now, a lonely, very angry and sullen kid unsure of what life held in store for him. It was at a time when he hadn't fully adjusted to living with his Uncle Jim. Joe was just the opposite, a bright-faced boy with an easy laugh and so much enthusiasm for everything in life that Elan thought there was something wrong with him. He'd told his uncle he thought Joe was off in the head and had been surprised at the loud huff of laughter that had followed. Joe's older brother Christopher had challenged the two of them to a horserace that day and it had been the beginning of their lifelong friendship. Joe had taken him aside and pointed out all the ways they could beat his brother if they worked together. He'd said cousins had to stick together, ignoring the fact that Christopher was his cousin too. They had joined forces and he had won the race and Joe had whooped with joy, excited for him. He'd never met anyone like him and still hadn't. Losing him would shake him to the depth of his being and he was here to make sure that didn't happen, if he could.

The air felt thick, the humidity irritating at this early hour of the morning, but that had been a part of his mood since hearing about Joe. He hadn't slept for at least thirty-six hours, unable to sleep on either flight as he usually did, and exhaustion was wearing him down. He should have stayed in New Orleans for the night, but had wanted to get to Thibodaux as soon as he could, needing to hear any news whoever was there might have. Hetty had been tightlipped over the phone and that had him worried, giving him only the address, a brief description and that he was expected. He guessed the rest, at least most of it, knowing Deeks and Callen wouldn't let anyone stop them from trying to find Joe. Sam might or might not be inside, but he couldn't assume that. The fact that he was heading for a old plantation in some obscure town on a bayou in the middle of Louisiana, was clue enough that they weren't on their own. Hetty wouldn't confirm that, but she didn't have to. These people were a tight knit team and looked out for one another and might as well be family.

He was tired as hell, but his senses were still heightened as if on patrol, so the beat up SUV and car parked off the road under a couple of oak trees sparked his interest as he slowly drove by. He was only about a hundred yards from the iron gates of the plantation when he saw two armed men standing guard. He didn't stop, simply continued driving up the road until he was certain they couldn't see him, before pulling in at the next driveway and parking up by a barn. The men were most definitely suspect. As cautious as Hetty's team was, and certain the search for Joe was as close to a black op as it could be, he knew they wouldn't telegraph their presence that way. Taking a deep breath, he unzipped the tote bag that had been waiting for him in a locker at the airport and pulled the Glock and an extra mag. He pocketed a few of the zip ties that had made him smile at the subtle hint when he'd first checked the bag, then slipped a dark Ka-bar knife into his boot. He took a small switchblade before exiting the car, and slipped it into the back pocket of his black chinos and the extra mag into the other, pulling his dark blue t-shirt down to hide them. Holding the Glock close to his leg, he moved quietly down the dirt driveway and across the road. As he approached, he heard the two men talking until a couple of muzzle flashes in an upper floor window made them turn their backs to him. He wasted no time, slamming the Glock down hard above the ear of one man before pressing the muzzle between the eyes of the other.

"Don't even blink," Elan Hand said softly. "Drop the weapon. Now."

The man snarled, but instantly dropped his rifle. "Who the fuck are you?"

Elan said something in Arapaho and smashed the man's nose with the gun, then spun him around and shoved him face first into the sturdy iron gate. The man put up little fight after that, groaning and cursing as he tried to stem the flow of blood dribbling down his face.

"How many men you send up to the house?" Elan asked in a rushed whisper. "You lie and I'll come back and shove this gun up your ass."

"Six."

The muted sound of more shots fired angered him and he quickly knocked the man out and zipped tied his hands and feet and crammed his own bandana in his mouth. Doing the same as fast as he could to the other one, he rose and closed his eyes, silently preparing himself before he starting running for the house, his long black hair flying out behind him. The pale moon flickered through the thick limbs and branches of the old oaks on either side as he raced up the edge of the driveway, avoiding the noisy gravel. His heart was pumping wildly by the time he got close to the house, but he stilled his mind, finally slowing and dropping into a crouch when he reached the porch. His hands steadied and his mind focused the anger he felt as he chose his weapon. Securing the Glock, he slid the black knife out of his boot and crept silently forward and inside the partially open front door.

He had no idea who the good guys even were, and it put him at a disadvantage, making him swear softly as he moved toward the dark stairs. The smell of blood hung in the air and he almost stumbled over the dead body on the landing. The way the guy was dressed made him certain he had one less man to worry about and he continued up the stairs.

"You ain't gettin' out a here alive, assholes."

The sudden shout startled him and he pressed himself against the railing, holding his breath and listening intently so he could locate his targets. There was no reply to the voiced threat, but he heard several whispers and then a bearded man in a ball cap slunk out of the double doors above him and crept along the wall to his right. He followed, moving swiftly and silently. The man never made a sound as he covered his mouth and rammed the knife up between his ribs. Lowering him to the floor he pressed his shoulder against the wall and moved back toward the open double doors.

The sudden eruption of automatic weapons fire sent him to the floor and he heard a man cuss loudly as another screamed. A large man rushed out, limping badly and Elan quickly took him down. That left three. He slipped the knife back in his boot and pulled the Glock, easing himself into position against the doorjamb. Peering into the gloom shrouded room, he could just make out the dark forms of two men pointing rifles toward the door to his right. One was behind an overturned table and the other was at the doors to the veranda. He sighted and fired, eliminating the one by the door and then taking a shot at the man who turned toward him to return fire. The doorjamb shattered above him, a splinter cutting into his forehead as he dropped to the floor. Lying prone he fired back, hitting the man in the knee as the door at the end of the room burst open and two men came out firing, riddling the attacker and sending him crashing into the overturned table. When the two men turned their weapons toward him, he threw his gun across the floor and spread his arms wide, offering no reason for them to kill him, at least that was his hope.

"Elan?"

"You know this guy?" A big man with a soft drawl asked as he stood over him.

"This is the guy we were expecting," Sam replied. "Elan Hand. Good man to have on your side."

"You get the sixth guy?" Elan asked, still not moving.

"Yeah...thought Roy here was sleeping," Sam said as he offered him a hand up. "Any more outside?"

"Two. Hog-tied," he replied as Sam pulled him to his feet. "Thought this was a safe house."

"S'posed ta be," Roy said, sounding extremely pissed.

"Think Homer gave us up?" Sam asked as he went over and picked up Elan's weapon and handed it back to him.

"Let's ask the two by the front gate," Elan said, wiping at the blood trickling down the side of his face as he took the Glock.

"So you're the cousin?" Roy asked and Elan nodded. "Hetty said ya were a former Army Ranger. Didn't say ya were a really good one."

"She didn't tell me anything about you," Elan said evenly.

"I'm one of her secrets. Roy Blanchard," he said with a broad smile. "Now let's go find out how in hell these guys come ta be here."

"Heard anything about Joe?" Elan asked Sam, blocking the door until he got some answers.

"Only that he's still alive," Sam replied. "Callen and Deeks confirmed over comms. They're undercover with the militia group Joe infiltrated. Call themselves the Patriotic Brotherhood."

"If these guys are here..." Elan felt out of breath as the thought grabbed him. "Their cover could already be blown."

"Don't go gettin' ahead of yourself, cousin," Roy said warmly, firmly gripping Elan's shoulder. "We got a couple of numb-nuts down by the road I'm pretty damn sure are gonna give up everything they know."

Roy brushed past him and led the way down the stairs, and they all remained silent until they reached the end of the driveway.

"Now y'all ain't been real neighborly tonight," Roy thickened his native drawl as he hauled one of the men to his feet. "So y'all better tell me why ya saw fit ta try an kill me and my friends...or...your mamas' are gonna be wearin' black and wonderin' where the hell your hands and feet got to."

Elan smiled at the terrified look on the man's face as Roy yanked the gag out of his mouth, but then he wasn't sure if Hetty's secret weapon was telling the truth or not. Sam didn't look sure either as he hefted the other man to his feet.

"Y'all do know I got a reputation to uphold, so start talkin' or my Arapaho friend here is gonna start carvin' off body parts."

"How come you know so much about me, and I don't know shit about you?" Elan asked, anger edging into his voice.

"He didn't want you here until Hetty shared your file," Sam explained.

"What file?" Elan asked warily.

"Hetty's always got a file," Roy laughed. "Doncha know she's got her eye on ya, boy?"

Elan growled something in Arapaho, shaking his head as he started walking down the road toward the attackers' cars, his mind now sharp and his anger growing. He ignored Blanchard's entreaties to help with the interrogation, even though he was desperate to find out if Deeks and Callen were in trouble. His mind was a storm of contradictory emotions, as he fought to hold unto some measure of hope while trying to stem the undertone of fear that they were already dead.

The windows of the cars were all down thanks to the heat, and he easily entered and searched the SUV, not even sure what he was looking for. When he found nothing, he walked back to the car and picked up a distinctive stench.

"Got something," he yelled back.

Reaching inside, he popped the trunk and waited for the other two to join him. He led the way toward the rear of the car and took a step back as the faint light in the trunk revealed the bloody body of a man, his hands and feet tied and his tongue cut out.

"Sonofabitch. It's Homer Moreau," Roy whispered.

"He's the one who introduced Deeks and Callen to The Brotherhood," Sam explained.

"You think they've been made?" Elan mumbled shakily, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Not necessarily," Roy said. "Guidry might just be tyin' up loose ends."

"And you're one of them," Sam said. "Guidry's spooked."

"And this place isn't even close to being safe," Elan spit out. "And neither are Deeks and Callen.

"Calm down, Elan. We'll get on comms and tell them what happened and to watch their backs."

"They're surrounded, Sam," Elan exploded. "Can't you just pull 'em out?"

"Let's find out what our two prisoners have ta say before we jump the gun here," Roy counseled. "Then we'll have to figure out what ta do with all the bodies. Getting the cops involved is just gonna make things messy."

Roy headed back toward the entrance gate, but Elan didn't moved, staring sullenly in at the dead man until Sam squeezed his shoulder.

"They cut out the guy's tongue, Sam," he said softly. "What kinda fuck does that?"

"A sick one sending a message," Sam said quietly. "Homer's cousin Henry is part of that group. Wonder if he knows what Guidry had done to his own relative?"

"I don't scare easily, Sam," Elan said as he slammed the trunk closed. "But I am now."

"So was Deeks until he found out Joe had escaped," he replied.

"If that militia group finds out these guys are dead...what does that mean for Marty and Callen?" Elan felt nothing but emptiness at the thought, and picked up on the nervousness that Sam was trying to hide.

"It might have nothing to do with them," Sam reasoned.

"Come on Sam...you know there has to be a connection," Elan said. "If he takes out a guy he knows because of them, he's already suspicious."

"I know you're worried...I am too, but it was their only chance to find out where Joe is or at least where he might be," Sam said. "They couldn't let it go. That's who they are."

"They're my brothers, Sam. Including Callen. If that bastard hurts them, I'll kill him myself," Elan was close to being overwhelmed by the possibility that he might lose all of them and was finding it difficult to control his growing fear and deep anger.

Elan was grateful to Sam for the understanding he saw on his face and for the comforting grip on his shoulder. Sam was as close to Callen as he was to Joe and Marty, and he could see he was feeling the same frustration that they couldn't be there to rescue them if they needed it.

"Let's go see what we can find out from the two you left standing," Sam said and they walked back to join Roy.

After cutting the zip ties off their ankles, they pulled the two captives up the driveway without a word, finally walking them around the side of the house to the back and into what used to be the stable. The inside still smelled of hay, but when Roy flipped on a few lights there were no horses in the large open stalls.

"Impressive," Elan said softly as he looked around. "Sorta miss the horses though."

"Personally, I hate horses," Roy drawled as he and Sam tied the two men to a couple of posts. "Tried ridin' once when I visited here as a kid...got tossed and kicked in the ass. Horses just didn't have the same appeal after that."

"Guidry ain't gonna like this," warned the man with the broken nose.

"You think you were just gonna walk in and kill us without a fight?" Sam thundered.

"We thought Roy would be asleep," the other man replied weakly. "Didn't know 'bout you two dudes."

"Question is boys, is why?" Roy asked with a friendly smile. "Why kill Homer and try to kill me?"

"Guidry got pissed that Homer was sellin' information 'bout The Brotherhood."

"Shut up, Amos," Broken nose snarled.

"You shut up, Leroy," he snapped back. "You wanna die for Guidry that's your business, but I sure as hell don't. 'Specially after he set his dogs on that federal agent. That weren't right, and neither was doing that to ol' Homer."

"Looks like we got us a bright one here," Roy said. "Who's your mama, kid?"

"She was a Duchamp," he said, hanging his head as if embarrassed. "Over by Breaux Bridge."

"She know you went and got mixed up with The Brotherhood?" He asked kindly.

"Nossir."

"It's gonna shame your mama when she finds out what y'all did tonight," Roy said. "No mama should have ta live with that."

Elan had no idea where he was going with this, but the kid did seem to be responding, while the other one just looked pissed.

"Does Henry know y'all killed his cousin?"

"Yeah he knows," Leroy giggled. "He's the one cut his tongue out."

"Sonofabitch."

Elan was suddenly wild with fear and rage, and had the open switchblade up under Leroy's chin in a single heartbeat. "You think that's funny?"

"Wait now...wait...didn't mean nothin', man...easy now," Leroy babbled.

"You laugh when they killed that federal agent your friend here mentioned?" Sam asked coldly.

"Them dogs is Guidry's thing, now," Leroy said as a trickle of blood ran down his throat. "Nothin' I coulda done ta stop it. He don't like no one arguin' with 'im. Tell 'em Amos."

"He's right about that. Guidry is the meanest sonofabitch I ever seen," Amos said. "Man was he pissed when that other agent escaped."

"What other agent?" Elan hissed.

"Guy callin' himself Phil...Beeler...I think his last name was," Amos said. "Took out two of the guys guardin' 'im. Killed one. Guidry was so mad he killed the other one. Clubbed 'im to death."

"Who told Guidry he was an agent?" Sam asked.

"Better keep your mouth shut, Amos," Leroy warned. "You know what'll happen if Guidry finds out."

"Y'all best worry about what happens in the next two seconds if we don't get answers," Roy said pleasantly. "Or would ya like ta see the other knife this big Arapaho carries. Ya scalp anyone lately, Mr. Hand?"

"I'm a little rusty, so it might hurt a bit more than usual," Elan said, following that up with some harsh sounding words in his native tongue as he reached down and pulled the black Ka-bar out of his boot.

"Y'all are jokin'...right?" Leroy whispered shakily.

"Is that what Homer asked before you cut his tongue out?" Sam's stance was one of solid fury. "Now answer the damn question. Who told you those two men were federal agents?"

"Some guy in a suit," Leroy stammered out. "Think he might own some of them stripper wells we guard. He ain't from around here."

"Where from then?" Roy asked.

"Talked like a Yankee," Amos volunteered. "Kept swearin' about the skeeters pesterin' 'im. Overheard him tell the other guy he couldn't wait ta get back up ta Washington."

"What other guy?" Sam asked.

"Some dude from New Orleans," he replied. "Same guy who came to the upper camp when Guidry set his dogs on that Fed."

"Got a name?" Sam pressed, giving Elan a look of pure anger.

"Didn't never hear no one say it," Amos said. "Did hear 'im tell Guidry to keep Phil alive. Said he wanted to question 'im. Think them two knew each other. Phil was screamin' cuss words at 'im durin' the killin'."

"Could you identify him from a photo?" Sam asked.

"Who the hell are you guys, anyways?" Leroy interrupted to ask boldly.

"You got your brotherhood and we got ours," Elan whispered close to his ear as he brought the tip of his knife up under Leroy's left eye.

"Easy now, Mr. Hand," Roy said quietly. "These boys are gonna help us find your cousin...ain't that right boys?"

"Yessir...no need ta get jumpy."

"Then tell us about this upper camp you mentioned," Elan said, pressing the knife against the frightened man's cheek.

"It's up on Bayou Chene east of Catahoula," he answered, his voice tight and breathless.

"How many men Guidry got up there?" Roy asked.

"'Bout thirty-five, forty maybe at the main camp," Amos offered. "Only 'bout ten or fifteen stay up on Bayou Chene."

Sam cocked his head toward the door, and Elan could tell he was agitated and wanting to talk. The three of them made there way to the long bench on the front porch of the house and sat down, all of them staring wearily down the alley of oaks to the road.

"Would ya have cut that boy's eye out?" Roy asked softly.

"Would it be a problem if I did or one if I didn't have the stomach for it?" Elan replied.

"Interestin' way to put it," Roy said. "You're a wild card to me. You were upset they'd cut Homer's tongue out..."

"And you didn't seem to care," Elan said quickly.

"I knew that boy and I do care, but in the middle of an op I don't have the luxury of flyin' off the handle over what's already done."

"It's not your brothers in danger, and I wasn't out of control," Elan said sharply.

"All bets are off when family's involved," Roy commented softly. "Never know what depths ya might sink to in order to save someone ya love."

"I'll fight any man to the death who threatens my family," he replied. "But I've never tortured anyone. It's not in my nature. Saw a man who did have that nature once and I saw what that man did to Marty...and it made me sick."

"Deeks was tortured?" Roy asked, turning to stare openmouthed at him.

"Kidnapped and held for eight days by a former Stasi agent," Sam said softly. "Elan and his family saved his life in the end."

"Didn't lose control then either," Elan said, suddenly angry at the stark memory. "Just did what was needed."

"What did..."

"You don't get to know that."

"Fair enough, mon ami," Roy acceded.

"You two done?" Sam finally said, waiting for them to back off each other. "We need to talk to Hetty. This is bigger than we thought it was. Somebody in Washington is involved and we have no idea who. I think it's time for me to go undercover inside the task force. Roy, if you've got a button cam, I'll get pictures of as many members as I can. We'll show them to Amos and see if he can identify who ratted out Joe and Oscar."

"No trouble hookin' ya up with a spy cam, but we need to move before Guidry gets nervous that somethin's gone wrong and sends reinforcements," Roy said.

"Do you trust either one of them to make a call to Guidry and let him know everything went off as planned?" Elan asked.

"Might give us a few hours," Roy acknowledged. "But if they don't return to camp eventually, the games up and we need ta be outa here when that happens."

"What about the dead bodies?" Sam asked.

"Oscar Doucet had a big ol' family and his brother Gus said they're all itchin' ta help," Roy replied. "They're scattered all along Bayou Teche over by St. Martinville. I'll give Gus a call, see if he can help us out."

"You got a nice set up here. Will we have to go dark when we leave?" Sam asked.

"I don't like goin' dark anymore than I like horses," he replied with a sudden grin.

"So where we moving to?" Elan asked.

"Home," he said with a smile. "This place is a project of mine, but it ain't home. Got fifteen acres east of Lafayette. House in the middle. A lake. A barn, in name only, that's chock full of the latest state of the art tech equipment...and lots and lots of privacy. Even got a different name over there. Broussard."

"Hetty said you were retired," Sam said. "Are you?"

"I make it a point to keep some things a secret, even from Hetty," he replied as he pulled his phone. "At least I try."

While Sam checked in with Hetty and Roy made arrangements with Gus Doucet, Elan went back and brought his car up. He was feeling dead tired now, especially after his contentious conversation with Roy Blanchard or Broussard, or whatever the hell he wanted to call himself. He wasn't sure why he had brought up Deeks' torture, and now hoped he never found out, knowing it was something he preferred to keep private. The man's response to the information made him think the two men hadn't exactly hit it off. Deeks could be a wiseass, especially when he was ticked off or if someone doubted his abilities, which he had a feeling was what had happened here. He was a man sometimes easy to underestimate, but Elan had never done that, maybe because he had heard what he had done for Joe before he ever saw him. His long hair disconcerted some, who made assumptions about him because of it, but it was as much a part of who he was as Elan's own long hair. Deeks didn't mind being different. Long hair simply expressed what he felt inside, and as an Arapaho he understood and respected that.

When they first met, Marty Deeks had reminded him of Joe as a boy, open-faced, his smile warm and welcoming, but he learned quickly that he wasn't a blithe spirit. He cared deeply and had suffered for it. They shared the pain of similar fathers, and having grown up unsure if they deserved to be loved by anyone. When they'd discovered men who had no fear of showing them the kind of fatherly love they craved, it had changed both their lives. His uncle, Jim Littleshield, was the kindest man he knew, wise and full of understanding, a man who had gentled him as a child, never showing anger, only patience with the wild boy he was. George had seen through Marty from the very beginning, intuitively realizing he had been abused as a child and because of that, carried guilt as if deserving of it. He'd helped him face his fear of rejection and by loving him like a son no matter what, had convinced him he was worthy of that love.

The two of them had suffered together in France, bonding as they fought side by side, becoming as close as brothers. But, it was the search for Elan's lost son Soldier that had deepened that bond, creating a love neither one voiced, but that was now a part of them nonetheless. He had come here because of his love for Joe, and now was experiencing a terrifying fear that Marty was in just as much danger. Knowing Callen was with him gave him some solace, but he worried for him as well. He knew the man would do anything to keep Marty safe, and he could only hope it wouldn't cost him.

Elan walked into the stable, the two bound men shrinking back in fear at his approach. Blanchard's question still gnawed at him, making him wonder just how far he would go if it would keep his brothers from suffering or from an unjust death. He had made that kind of decision once, and still shivered whenever he recalled the horror of it.

"You gonna kill us now?" Leroy asked, sounding resigned to his fate.

"You anxious to die?" He asked in reply.

"Guess we just expect it," Amos said.

"You help us, you live another day," he assured them.

"And if we don't?" Leroy blurted out nervously.

"The federal agent Guidry killed had a big family," he said evenly. "His brothers are on their way here. You don't help us, we hand you over to them. I doubt they'll be gentle with you. Your choice."

"That ain't no choice, man," Leroy whined. "Guidry don't like traitors. He's crazy, man. He sent six men with dogs after that Phil guy and when they catch 'im, you don't wanna know what he'll do to 'im. I seen 'im do awful things ta people, man. I help ya and he'll hurt my family."

"If you don't, he'll hurt mine," Elan replied softly, then turned and walked out into the deep gray of early dawn.

...

...


	10. Chapter 10

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 10_

...

Callen pulled his t-shirt off over his head and tossed it aside, welcoming the breath of cool air that finally began to stir as the sky lightened. Sitting on the edge of the bare mattress he looked over at Deeks who was still sleeping, sprawled facedown in his boxers, one arm hanging off the cot. He studied the darkening bruises along his ribs, and the healing gunshot wound, but his long hair hid the cuts on his face, and he told himself the kid could handle the pain he'd been trying so hard to hide. Even though they both had anticipated it, he was still disturbed that Guidry would probably continue to hurt Deeks if it would get him what he wanted, and undoubtedly vice versa. Suddenly feeling agitated, he got up, groaning with his own twinges of pain, and padded outside hoping there was some respite from the heat and from the worry he couldn't shake.

He lowered himself to the porch deck and leaned back against the rough siding, gently pressing his fingers to the tender bruise along his jaw. His meeting with Guidry had been contentious by his own design, but it had earned him a few new bruises along with what he hoped was a measure of respect. He'd woven his legend around hints of the truth, knowing that whatever he said was being folded into their backstory back at Ops. He hadn't wanted their time with the Aryan Knights to become the key to their acceptance, but it was and Deeks would just have to deal with it. The girl had been an interesting and unexpected twist, reminding him that Guidry was a clever man, much smarter than he looked and sounded. He wasn't surprised that Deeks had handled that situation, feeling a touch of pride that he'd managed to get solid information about Joe in the process. He smiled as he thought about it and what might happen when this was all over, wondering if Deeks would share this little episode with Kensi. It certainly was something he could hold over him if he didn't. He could never have enough ammunition to get the better of the kid if he needed to. Teasing him was one of the enjoyable benefits of having a smartass like Deeks as a brother.

He remembered a time when he'd been jealous of Joe Atwood. The close bond the two men had forged seemed impenetrable to him, until Sam had reminded him that a man could have more than one brother. He could laugh at the memory now that the two of them had grown so close. He got the feeling Joe got a bit jealous himself once in awhile since he and Deeks spent so much time together, but the three of them were friends as well as brothers and he never tired of their camaraderie. Elan seemed to round out the group, not as demonstrative as Joe and Deeks, but there was no doubt about his loyalty and deep connection to both men. He'd witnessed the big Arapaho's bond with Deeks when the three of them had come together to save him in Santa Fe. Elan showed raw emotion that first day, berating himself that his search for his son might cost him the man he claimed as a brother. That fight had brought them all closer, and he knew Elan would be coming now that it was Joe who was missing.

"G? You there?"

Sam's strident voice in his ear jerked him away from those memories, reminding him he had a partner who meant as much to him as the others. It was a comfort to hear his voice, but the information he began sharing startled him, making him wary of what might be in store for them when Guidry discovered his men weren't coming back. He eased up onto his feet, not rushing or acknowledging he was communicating with someone, knowing they were still being watched. Turning his back to the camp, he let Sam know he understood, smiling briefly when he was told Elan had arrived just in time to help in the firefight. Going back inside, he debated whether to wake Deeks with the news but decided to let him sleep, fairly certain he was going to need it before long. He listened intently as Sam shared their plans to move, that someone in Washington was involved and that he was going undercover in the task force, all of it making his head spin with questions. Sam's concern came through loud and clear as he told him to watch his back, telling him he was heading into New Orleans and that Roy would be monitoring them for the rest of the day.

"What's up?" Deeks asked sleepily, propping himself up on one elbow and tousling his hair as he tried to come fully awake.

Callen put a finger to his lips and pointed to his ear and nodded, and Deeks quickly retrieved his earpiece from the hidden slit in the mattress and snugged it in. He looked back at him with that look of intense focus Callen had come to recognize early on as the first hint that he wasn't as laid back as he pretended to be.

"Elan's here."

He was rewarded with a widening smile and he sensed a feeling of relief as if he took comfort from all of them coming together. For some reason, he held back on telling him what had happened at the plantation and he wondered how Deeks would react when he found out he'd purposefully kept him in the dark. His instincts told him it was the right thing to do, but Deeks wouldn't see it that way, and would be hurt that he didn't trust him. He'd deal with the consequences of hurt feelings later, but right now if it kept him healthy it would be worth it.

The sound of men moving through the undergrowth in front of the cabin sent a rush of adrenaline through him and he quickly slipped into his jeans and threw on his t-shirt. Deeks was moving slower and barely got his pants on before the cabin filled with angry men who parted as Guidry and Tino stormed inside.

"How y'all know Roy Blanchard?" Guidry demanded as he grabbed Callen's shirt in his fist.

"We don't," Jake replied, holding his ground. "Was given his name by a friend."

"What kinda friend dis be?" He asked.

"A dead one," Jake replied sharply. "Now you want to tell me what in hell this is all about? Cause I thought I answered all your questions early this mornin'."

"Seems convenient him bein' dead," Tino said in a low voice as he moved closer to Deeks. "Doncha think so Jimmy?"

"Not for Zeke it ain't," Jimmy shot back. "We called to tell 'im we met with Blanchard and his sister told us the Feds shot him down in his own driveway. The fuckin' bastards. He was the best shot I ever saw..."

Tino sucker-punched him before he could finish, knocking him to floor, then stood laughing over him.

"What the fuck?" Jake roared and struggled to get out of the grip several men now had on him.

"Addy called him a sweetheart," Tino taunted, ending in a high voice, and laughing with the men around him.

Jimmy groaned, shaking his head as he pushed himself up from the floor to his hands and knees and spit out some blood. Rocking back, he held up a hand toward Jake and gave him a dark look that made him pause.

"Women like the way I make love, asshole," he said, panting hard. "Don't mean I ain't a tough sonofabitch when I wanna be."

With that statement he drove his fist full force into Tino's crotch, who screamed, his eyes wild as he grabbed himself and collapsed to his knees. Before anyone could do anything, Jimmy hit him hard in the face, breaking his nose and sending him backwards onto the floor.

Jimmy staggered to his feet with both fists ready. "Anybody else wanna make fun of the way I fuck?"

Guidry walked over in front of him with a sour look on his face and placed a hand on his bare chest, shoving him hard against the wall.

"Don't care shit 'bout dat, boy," he snarled. "You 'member Homer?"

"Henry's brother?"

"His cousin."

"Thought Homer was his brother..."

"No never mind, couyon. Same difference," he said, sounding exasperated as Jimmy shrugged and looked confused.

"Don't know nothin' about him," Jimmy said honestly. "Blanchard's the one knew 'im."

"You pay 'im ta bring y'all here?"

"Yessir...two hundred dollars," he replied. "Why? Is that not a good thing? Don't mean ta get 'im in trouble, but it's the truth. Wouldn't have brought us otherwise. Least that's what Blanchard told us. You can ask 'em."

"Homer ain't talkin' no more shit after tonight," Guidry said. "Don't like outsiders sellin' information 'bout The Brotherhood. Folks need ta understand dat. Lesson has ta scare shit outa folks, otherwise dey don't learn."

"What kinda lesson?" Jimmy asked warily, his eyes flicking over to his brother.

"Cut 'im tongue right out," Guidry stared solemnly at Jimmy, watching for his reaction.

"Seriously? Sonofabitch," Jimmy breathed out, looking completely stunned as Guidry nodded.

Callen's muscles rippled with tension as he waited for the standoff to end, uncertain what might come next.

"Y'all been ta Blanchard's big ol' plantation house?" Guidry asked, stepping closer to Jimmy, his hand pressing into his chest.

"Once," Jimmy responded, swallowing hard.

"Who dere wid 'im?" Guidry's gravelly accent getting heavier the longer he spoke.

"Nobody...just him."

The man's punch was low and hard and Jimmy doubled over and would have fallen if Guidry hadn't grabbed him by the throat and shoved him back against the wall.

"Told ya I don't like liars, couyon," he growled.

"Ain't lying," Jimmy gasped out.

"Yeah? Den call dat sister," Guidry demanded, and called out impatiently for the satphone.

"Zeke's?" Jimmy looked warily at Jake and Guidry slapped him.

"Stop bein' a couyon, boy," Guidry snarled in his face.

"Can't stop if I don't know what the hell that is," Jimmy said gruffly as he stood up defiantly in front of the man.

"Means stupid...ignorant fool," he replied, smiling for the first time. "Don't play dat wid me or I'll knock ya sideways like ya done Tino. Now call dat dere girl, or I'll let Tino have atcha."

"She's kinda grumpy in the mornin'," Jimmy said with a quick, cocky grin.

Callen could hear Sam in his ear assuring him he had Nell on the line to Kensi and he began to breathe easier. He stared back at Deeks as he heard the same thing, his relief evident, but guarded.

"What her name, boy? Ya fuck 'er good, yeah?" Guidry asked, smiling suggestively and slapping Jimmy lightly on the cheek.

Callen saw a subtle change come over Deeks and he braced himself in case he lost his temper. He could hear Sam talking calmly to Deeks, warning him to be cool, but the look in his eyes was tumultuous and very dangerous for both of them.

"He's got a thing for Fern, that's for sure," Jake said quickly, hoping to remind him to hold it together. "Don't like her being disrespected."

"'Member who you talkin' to," Guidry snapped and turned toward Callen, who kept his eyes on Deeks.

"He's sweet on 'er is all I'm sayin'," Jake said with a soft smile.

"Den call 'er," Guidry ordered as a man handed him the satphone.

Jimmy nodded obediently, and Jake slowly let out his breath and waited for the call to go through, grateful Sam had patched them both through so they could listen in as they had before. When the call connected, Kensi sounded groggy and he saw concern flash across Deeks' face.

"Mornin', Fern baby," Jimmy said softly.

"I'm mad at you, Jimmy Hale," she said in a sleepy Southern accent before Guidry snatched the phone.

"What you say ta 'im, girl?" Guidry growled.

"Who's this?" She asked, sounding more alert and a little pissed.

"Answer me girl or I'll hurt Jimmy here so's he ain't no fun in bed ever agin," Guidry threatened in a low, heavy voice.

"Just told him I'm still mad at him," she finally replied softly. "He left without saying a proper goodbye, if you know what I mean."

"You gotta brother, Fern?" Guidry asked, his tone quieter, which surprised Callen.

"Didn't Jimmy tell you?" The tears were evident in the sadness of her voice. "Feds just shot him down for no damn reason. And now Jimmy's gone too, and..."

Kensi began to cry softly, finally sniffling as she appeared to get control of herself. "Sorry, life's been kinda hard since Zeke was killed. Please don't hurt Jimmy, mister. I'm kinda hopin' he comes back to me."

Guidry grunted and didn't reply, simply handed the phone to Jimmy, who whispered a couple of endearments and a quick goodbye before ending the call.

"That 'un's too needy, boy," Guidry advised. "Git shed of 'er."

"You ain't seen how pretty she is," Jimmy said with a slow smile.

Guidry actually laughed, although it sounded gruff and ended quickly, but he slapped Jimmy good-naturedly on the shoulder and turned to leave, saying something in Cajun as he pointed at Tino who still lay groaning on the floor. A couple of men helped the man up and he sagged between them as he shot Jimmy a look of pure venom.

"You two goin' out to a stripper well with me and Henry today," Guidry ordered as he stood by the door. "We missin' eight men."

"What happened to 'em?" Jimmy asked, making Callen flinch slightly.

"S'pose ta go an kill that asshole Blanchard, but ain't no sign of 'em at the ol' place," he said, visibly angry. "Dere was plenty blood, but no Blanchard neither. No way he take out eight militiamen by hisself."

Callen could tell Deeks was shaken by the news, but outwardly he showed little emotion except to commiserate with Guidry, before looking over at him with deeply troubled eyes that he hoped only he could read. When Guidry walked out and they were finally alone, Deeks' expression hardened before he looked away, and Callen knew he'd made a mistake. Before they could talk, Pea came in and handed them back their weapons and told them to come down to the main hall for breakfast, praising the boudin brought in fresh before dawn. Somehow the man sensed the tension and quickly left, but not before praising Jimmy for what he'd done to Tino. Apparently the man wasn't well liked.

"You knew," Deeks said tightly as he inspected his weapon. "Anybody hurt?"

"No," Callen felt the distance in his voice. "Elan did his thing. Took two alive. They're moving operations."

"I'm going down to breakfast," he replied as he pulled a t-shirt on and sat down to put on his shoes. "Think I can handle that all by myself?"

"Deeks..."

"I'm either your equal partner or I'm not," Deeks said quietly as he stood to leave. "Let me know which it is so I can act accordingly...boss."

He saw the hurt in his eyes, but when his jaw clinched Callen realized just how pissed he really was. He let him go and then had to listen to Sam in his ear, asking what the hell he was thinking. They argued as he tried to explain, but Roy broke in and brought them both back to the present.

"Tino's his enemy now," Roy remarked. "You best watch out for your brother, man, cause that 'un will retaliate...no question. If I read Deeks right, he'll try and prove himself to ya and that'll be dangerous for 'im. Make things right between the two of ya before things get outa hand."

The truth hurt, but Roy was right and he shoved his gun behind his back and hurried out to catch up with Deeks. He walked by several rustic cabins as he made his way down thought the heavy undergrowth, some occupied some not. He got several suspicious glances, but a few men he passed raised a hand or nodded in greeting and it helped him relax somewhat. As he walked into a wide clearing, smoke rose from a long barbecue pit, the smell of roasting pork making his mouth water as he walked toward the main hall. It was a large structure open on three sides with a cement floor and a "Don't Tread on Me" flag flying above it. Long tables with rough-hewn benches and a few smaller tables along the edges were crowded with men and a few women having breakfast and talking in subdued voices. Callen did a quick count in his head of the number of men, estimating there were at least forty he could see and all heavily armed. They were a rough looking bunch and quite a few looked to be ex-military, congregating in various groups that watched him with just enough distrust to make him nervous. No one was smiling or came up to welcome him until he got to the food table.

"Hey dude, how ya doin' this mornin'?" The familiar young man asked easily.

"Silas, right?" Jake replied, pointing at him with a knowing smile. "You were kind enough to bring us some fried chicken when we got here. Thanks. We appreciated it."

"Wait till ya taste the boudin," he said proudly. "My mama made it herself. It'll melt in your mouth."

"If it's meat I'm in," Callen replied, getting a laugh out of the kid.

"You ain't never had sausage before?" He asked.

"That what it is? Smells damn good."

Silas piled his tin plate high with boudin, some white goopy stuff he called grits and a mishmash of scrambled eggs, onions, potatoes and more sausage that the kid liberally seasoned with hot sauce from a gallon jug. He grabbed a couple of warm biscuits that he hoped would soak up some of the eye-watering hot sauce, and then helped himself to a mug of coffee, before looking around for Deeks. He spotted him at one of the outer tables, smiling widely at the young girl draped all over him. She couldn't seem to keep her hands off him, and Callen smiled at his unfailing ability to attract women.

"Am I interrupting?" He asked as he stepped up to the table.

"This is Addy," Deeks said, not looking up as he stabbed at a sausage. "Could ya get me another cup of coffee darlin'? And maybe another biscuit for Jake. I don't think two's gonna do it."

Callen settled down on the bench across from him and started in on his breakfast. Deeks kept his head down and said nothing, ignoring him completely and it was starting to bother him. He felt oddly unsettled by it, realizing how accustomed he'd become to their closeness and easy conversations, never tiring of the teasing banter that was so much a part of their relationship. He was unsure how to make up for his mistake now that they were surrounded by hardened militiamen watching every move they made and able to overhear whatever they said.

"How's Fern?" He finally ventured.

Deeks seemed caught off guard by the question and looked quickly up at him, his eyes betraying his curiosity. He shrugged and looked over at Addy as she talked with Silas.

"Did it sound like she was feelin' better?" Callen asked softly, knowing he was pulling him back to his true self as he tried to cut through his hurt feelings and his alias's tough demeanor.

"It was good to hear her voice," he conceded, his shoulders sagging as he let out a long sigh.

"I'm sure she thought the same thing," Callen replied. "I know you miss having her around."

Deeks stared at him, his eyes searching his, trying to read his intent. "She's prettier than you that's for sure."

"Better at some things too," he said with a smirk. "Guessin' she doesn't piss you off as much as I do."

"She has her moments, but you..." Deeks struggled over what to say, until finally flashing a cocky grin, he expressed his anger. "You can be a big fat dumbass at times."

"Guilty as charged, little brother," Callen breathed out with a smirk. "Promise to avoid being one in the future."

"Did I hear you call him a dumbass?" Addy asked as she sat down and handed Deeks his coffee. "Funny...Phil used ta say that all the time."

"Who's Phil?" Callen asked, his face placid compared to the knot quickly forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Ain't none of your business. You talk too damn much, Addy. Now git before I paddle your ass," Henry growled as he approached, roughly grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet.

Callen caught Deeks' eye before he could respond and gripped his forearm, holding it firmly down on the table.

"Just makin' conversation, man," Jake said easily.

"Guidry's ready to head out," Henry snapped, glaring at them with bloodshot eyes. "So come on now. We gotta meet somebody that don't like us being late."

He turned and stalked off, and Deeks quickly gulped down the rest of his coffee, squeezing Callen's shoulder as they hurried after the man.

"Mornin' fellas," Roy suddenly said in their ears. "FYI...One of the men we took captive told us a man in a suit from New Orleans is the one who told 'em Joe and Oscar were agents. Could be the man y'all are goin' ta meet. Amos said the guy was there when Oscar was killed. Also said he thought Joe knew 'im."

"Shit," Deeks whispered.

"If it is the same guy, y'all better pray he don't make either one of ya, or this is gonna turn into a piss poor op real quick," Roy cautioned. "Might be why Guidry's takin' y'all along. Wants ta see if his contact knows y'all. So, stay sharp out there."

Guidry was already in the boat when they got to the dock. There were three men with him and Henry directed them to a second boat, which held two heavily armed men wearing camo tank tops and fatigues. Callen held his breath, wondering if they were now trusted enough not to be blindfolded, but then he reasoned that if they were taking them out to be killed there would be no need for blindfolds. He placed his hand on the back of Deeks' neck before he stepped down into the boat, feeling a deep need to make physical contact with him. Suddenly he became very emotional and fought to maintain a stoic expression, keeping his head down as he followed him into the boat.

He was never afraid for himself. In all the years he'd been doing undercover ops, he always believed he would find a way out of whatever dangerous situation he found himself in. But that was when he worked alone and before Deeks. He was afraid for him, and the thought of watching these bastards kill him filled his soul with overwhelming angst and a powerful, almost uncontrollable rage. Deeks was smiling until he looked at him, the smile disappearing as the boat engine roared to life and they pulled out into the middle of the bayou. They held each other's gaze, each one reading the other until Deeks reached over and pounded his knee with the base of his fist.

"Sun's shinin', brother," he said with a crooked grin. "It's gonna be a good day."

He hated his optimism at that moment, but he understood what he was doing and simply shook his head, giving him a guarded smile before turning to stare out at the passing scenery.

The trip turned monotonous, and the militiamen showed no interest in either one of them. The first sign it was ending was when Henry eased off the throttle and snugged the boat slowly up against the bank. They were greeted by several armed men, everyone speaking Cajun as the boats were tied up. Callen caught the drift of the conversation, but gave no indication that he understood.

"Git on up ta the road," Henry ordered. "Truck's waitin'. When we git to the well site, keep your mouths shut. No talkin'...no nothin'...or I'll kick your ass."

Henry seemed on edge and the smell of whiskey wafted off of him, and Callen shot Deeks a warning look, knowing he had picked up on it. It was obvious that Henry was coming off a bender, and the kid more than anyone, knew not to push the man. He'd never had much patience with drunks because of his father, and at times it had gotten him in trouble, so Callen held him back as the others followed the man up the levee to the road. Deeks gave him a knowing look, easily reading his concern and slapping him lightly on the back to show he understood.

"Y'all ride wid me," Guidry ordered, stepping in front of them when they came up to the trucks. "Get on up in back dere."

A trickle of sweat slid down between Callen's shoulder blades, and he felt Deeks tense up beside him, but the kid gave the man a quick grin and hopped up into the bed of the truck as if nothing were bothering him. Henry climbed in after them, his eyelids drooping and his breathing labored and harsh as he settled with his back against the tailgate, an AR-15 resting in his lap. When Guidry walked past to get in the passenger seat, Henry glowered at him, an expression of pure hatred contorting his face. If their situation wasn't volatile before this it seemed to be now. It looked as if Henry wasn't taking his cousin's grisly death well and they needed to be prepared if things went sideways.

It was a hot dusty ride, but a short one, finally ending when they drove through a scraggly pine forest to an isolated spot with a small, rusty pumpjack in the center. The iron horse head on the front of the rig nodded methodically, slowly drawing oil from the ground. It was nothing like the bigger rigs on the outskirts of LA, but apparently whoever was running this consortium of wells was making enough money to finance a terrorist organization and keep Guidry's militia in grits and boudin. The men were climbing out of the trucks when a sleek silver Mercedes pulled up close to the well head and stopped. Two men got out and both were wearing suits, but the driver was packing a sidearm, so Callen turned his attention to the other man.

He was a tall, well-built man with wispy light brown hair, and wore tortoiseshell designer glasses that gave him an owlish appearance. He held himself like an athlete, his movements smooth and confident as he strode toward Guidry with a condescending smile. The two men talked quietly and Callen steadied himself when the two looked their way. Deeks was suddenly pushed forward by one of the guys from the boat, an automatic weapon braced hard against his back. Callen felt a muzzle shoved into his lower spine and he moved forward to stand next to Deeks.

"So you're the new guys," the man said calmly as he slipped an iPhone from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Guidry told me your names, but please, refresh my memory."

"Jake Hale," Callen said with a smirk as the man shot his picture. "Don't really like being photographed."

"And I really don't care," he replied, sounding arrogant and dismissive. "I'm not as trusting as Mr. Guidry. I have access to a data base that will tell me everything there is to know about you."

"He just don't look as good in pictures as I do," Deeks said, grinning widely. "I'm Jimmy Hale...the handsome one in the family."

"Guidry said you have a way with women," the man said as he snapped his picture. "He put it a bit more crudely, of course, but I got his meaning."

"He ain't lyin'," Jimmy replied cockily.

As he stepped back from the man, some movement must have caught his eye and he turned to look over as Henry Moreau stalked toward Guidry, raising the AR-15 into firing position, his face a dark mask of rage.

"Jake! Henry!"

Deeks shouted and launched himself into the two men in front of him, taking both to the ground just as Henry fired a burst at them, spraying bullets into the side of the car and instantly killing the bodyguard.

Callen whipped his gun from behind his back and fired twice, hitting Henry in the head, the automatic weapon firing harmlessly into the air as he fell. He could hear Guidry shouting and cursing in Cajun, but it sounded muted and far away as he was knock down by the man behind him. He lay stunned on the ground, raising his head to search for Deeks in all the chaos, and he panicked when he saw him lying facedown in the dirt, an arm draped across Guidry's chest. The man in the suit was screaming he'd been shot, blood streaking down the fine fabric of his sleeve, while Guidry shoved Deeks off of him and struggled to his feet. He was roaring mad and charged over to Henry's body, kicking him again and again as he spit out curses. Deeks didn't move and Callen softly choked out his real name as Roy shouted a warning in his ear. He ignored him, crawling across the rough ground, trying to get to his brother and praying for him to move.

"Jimmy?"

The bottom half of his t-shirt was soaked in blood, and Callen rested a shaky hand on his shoulder as he leaned over him, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"Come on, kid...you're scarin' me," he whispered as he gently turned him over onto his back.

When he raised his shirt to get a look at the wound in his side, he heard him groan and saw him grab a fistful of dirt. His eyes fluttered opened and he blinked slowly, lifting his head and finally gripping Callen's arm as he grimaced in pain.

"Did ya get 'im?" He asked.

"Yeah," Callen said with incredible relief. "He killed the bodyguard. Wounded the amateur photographer...and you."

"Shit. Hurts. How bad?" Deeks asked, struggling to see where he'd been hit.

"A deep crease. Lots of blood," he replied. "You were lucky."

"Guidry okay?" Deeks mumbled, his face now clammy with sweat.

"How'd ya know he was gonna try'n kill me boy?" Guidry asked as he walked up to stand over him.

"Didn't. Just looked mad as hell in the truck," he replied weakly. "Thought I should keep an eye on im."

"What the fuck, Guidry," the man in the suit yelled, shoving his way through the men who had gathered around. "You're own man shot me, you sonofabitch. My suit is ruined, my phone's destroyed..."

Guidry hit him hard in the mouth, knocking him on his butt before he could say anything more, and he looked completely stunned as he sat looking up at him.

"Dis here boy save your sorry ass, couyon," Guidry growled. "Mine too. Shed his own blood doin' it. Folks 'round here don't forget dat kinda thing. Go on now and look after yourself. We take care of our own."

He turned and nodded to Jake Hale, reaching down to help him get his brother Jimmy on his feet, while Roy Blanchard swore softly in the brothers' ears.

...

...


	11. Chapter 11

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 11_

...

He heard a sharp intake of breath as the truck hit another pothole and Callen tightened his grip around his chest, struggling to keep pressure on the wound, his jeans sticky with blood as Deeks lay sprawled between his legs. With his back pressed against the back of the cab, Callen stared out at the swirls of dust that flew out behind them as they sped along the levee road, his mind racing almost as fast. He had no idea where they were going, the truck having headed in the opposite direction from where they'd originally come. There were no guards in the bed of the truck with them, just Guidry and a driver up front, the remaining men having stayed behind to clean up the mess and dispose of the bodies. Deeks had been in and out of consciousness for the last few miles, his head now resting against his shoulder, his arms going limp as he faded out again. Roy had talked reassuringly in his ear since the shooting, but when Elan's voice filled the comms he found himself the one trying to find a way to relieve the concern so obvious in his hurried questions. He talked to Jimmy Hale in a low voice, pretending to tease him about moaning over a minor wound so as not to make Guidry suspicious if he overheard and ease Elan's fear at the same time.

"You're a mean sonofabitch, Jake," Jimmy murmured in reply, moving gingerly as he came to again.

"Can't help it if you're a crybaby, brother," Jake replied, his voice wavering slightly with the false accusation.

"Fuck you," he replied in a voice that sounded a little too much like Deeks.

"Don't mean ta interrupt y'all's little brotherly tiff," Roy said. "But anyway you can give me a description of that asshole you met with today?"

"You mean without making the asshole they're with suspicious?" Elan snapped at Roy.

The two men began arguing and Callen smiled as he felt Deeks laugh. "You good, brother?"

"Yeah, Jimmy," he replied. "Got a headache from gettin' bashed by that big sucker in the tank top, but other than that I'm good to go."

"Now who's whinin'?" Jimmy asked. "Got any idea where the hell we're goin'?"

"I'm new here too, remember?" Jake growled.

"Sorry boys," Roy offered, as Elan apologized at the same time. "According to the tracking spray Sam coated y'all with, you're about to come up on a road that'll take ya into the little town of Crescent. Guidry must have a sympathizer there somewheres who can patch Deeks up."

"How bad's he bleeding, Callen?" Elan asked softly.

"I swear ya leaked a pint or two of blood all over me, kid," Jake said, cussing as if pissed.

Deeks didn't respond and Elan noticed, raising his voice as he called to him over the comms. Roy started to reprimand him, but Elan interrupted him immediately in Arapaho, his gruff tone reminding Callen that he was not a man you wanted to anger or get between him and someone he cared about. He listened to the two men's testy quarrel as they tried to find common ground, but Callen could say nothing, finally tuning them out as the truck swung up onto a paved road along a wide waterway. Their speed increased, the road winding past an occasional house and a few barns and businesses. Deeks slumped over his arm as the truck suddenly turned sharply down a concrete driveway. They pulled to a stop behind a large, expensive looking two-story house overlooking the water and a boat dock that had a sleek new cabin cruiser tied up alongside. Guidry got out and walked back to stare at Deeks, his eyes even betraying some concern, which surprised Callen.

"Doc here's a good 'un," he said as the man with him let down the tailgate and climbed up to help him get Deeks down.

Callen worried when he made no sound as they carried him toward a man talking angrily with Guidry, and he wondered what the militia leader had on the doctor to make him a part of this. He had white hair that was shaved close and held himself with military bearing, and he was definitely pissed about their arrival. They were reluctantly directed into the back door of the house and down a hall to a large room overlooking a small garden framed by a high, dense hedge, adding to its privacy. Callen was surprised to see a fully equipped surgical set-up as he and the driver laid Deeks down on a padded exam table. He turned as the doctor entered the room and held out his hand to introduce himself, wanting Roy to get his name.

"Jake Hale, Doc," he said. "This is my brother, Jimmy."

"I don't need to know your name and you don't need to know mine," he said, his tone indifferent.

"If you're ashamed of your own name and what you do, that's your business," Jake replied coldly. "But you better fix up my brother real good or I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

"Ain't no need ta warn 'im, Jake," Guidry said. "He know not ta screw up, doncha Doc Mouton? Lots ta lose if he do."

Callen saw the fear then, the deep, unsettling kind that comes from a very painful experience. There was also distaste and Callen got the distinct impression that this man felt Guidry was beneath him. The man turned abruptly, calling out a woman's name as he bent over Deeks, picking up a pair of scissors and began cutting away his bloody shirt. He didn't trust the man, and from what he heard over comms, neither did Elan.

"Get out and let me work," Mouton ordered, his words heavy with resignation and resentment.

"Ain't happenin'," Jake replied evenly. "Jimmy's the only family I got left, so I'm stayin'."

"Best not screw up Doc," Guidry laughed. "Dese here boys is close and both be mean as a hungry gator."

A woman with short gray hair entered just as Guidry finished talking, pausing briefly when she saw him, a hint of deep disgust in her eyes as she made her way to the table where Deeks lay. She brushed his tangled hair out of his eyes and it woke him. He blinked a couple of times and looked around, smiling when he looked up at her. Callen was always amazed at how women responded when Deeks favored them with that slow, wide smile, and today was no different. His face was filthy with sweat, blood staining his hands, his stomach and abdomen smeared with it, and a long, raw gouge scarred his side, but he still managed to get a smile out of the refined looking woman.

"Hey ma'am," he said as she began to clean his face.

"Be still, young man," she said as she washed away the sweat and dirt from his chest.

"Name's Jimmy," he whispered. "What's yours?"

"You don't need to know her name," Doctor Mouton snapped.

"It's alright, Ezra," she said easily. "My name is Marjorie. Folks call me Margie. Now hold on, this might hurt a bit."

He yelped and began shivering as she started to clean some of the dried blood from the wound, gripping the edge of the table as she worked.

"Did you give him something for the pain?" She asked the doctor.

"Guidry said he was tough," he replied, and Callen took a step toward the man as anger surged through him.

The woman held up her hand to stop Callen, shaking her head as she took a tiny bottle from a surgical tray and picked up a syringe. "This should make you feel a little better, Jimmy."

The woman seemed kind and patted Deeks on the shoulder when she finished with the injection. She got the rest of his clothes off and covered him with a warm blanket before getting an IV started as the doctor prepared his instruments, glancing over at him several times as he laid them out with precision. Guidry had left, and the doctor grew emboldened again, making several nasty remarks about both of them as he examined Deeks' wound.

"You're a sonofabitch, Doc" Jimmy finally said quietly.

The man's expression was severe as he shoved a needle into Deeks' IV, watching as his body slowly went limp. Callen was suddenly afraid for him, and put his hand on his gun.

"You hurt him, you're dead," unsure and uncaring whether he was in character or not.

"He's a very good surgeon," Margie said. "And I'm a very experienced trauma nurse. You're brother is going to be fine. No one is going to harm him."

Before he could thank her, he heard a man cursing and shouting the doctor's first name. The voice was very familiar and he stepped in front of the doctor to protect him if he needed it.

"Ezra? Help me, I've been shot," whined the man they'd met that morning as he stumbled into the room.

"Good God, Eliot. What the hell happened," Mouton said, and then turned and shouted in Callen's face. "Did you two do this? I'll let your brother bleed out if you bastards hurt my son-in-law."

The doctor's eyes were intense as he helped the sandy haired man to a chair, calling them both thugs and murderers. The doctor quickly forgot about Deeks as he helped his wife eased the blood-soaked suit jacket off the man they called Eliot. Callen went ice cold, and felt the sudden urge to tell the doctor exactly what his son-in-law was, but Roy was yelling a warning in his ear and he knew he had to control himself.

"Dat boy on de table dere...he save Eliot's life," Guidry said as he walked past Callen and yanked the doctor around to face him. "He save mine too. Now fix 'im, or I'll shoot this fuck."

The doctor's expression was a mixture of stunned surprise and abject fear. The information had certainly rendered him speechless, his wife as well, who was staring at Eliot as if seeing him for the first time.

"What have you done?" Margie asked breathlessly and then looked up at her husband. "You know...don't you?"

"This is all Guidry's fault," Eliot said. "He can't control his men. First he lets his group be infiltrated by federal agents and now one of his own men tries to kill us."

Guidry had him by the throat in an instant, growling into his face as the doctor tried to reason with him. Callen feared he might kill the man, and he couldn't let that happen. Eliot was the link they needed to the men behind the terrorist organization running things, so he decided to do something crazy and prayed it would work. He pulled his gun and placed the muzzle against the trembling man's temple and calmly waited for Guidry to say something. Eliot began to blubber, and Margie pleaded, but the doctor said nothing, his eyes wide and calculating.

"Give the order boss, and he's dead," Jake said, his voice edgy and hard.

Guidry slowly got control of himself and let Eliot go, turning to look at Jake with a respect that hadn't been there this morning. He gripped his forearm, pulling the gun down and away, and the standoff calmed.

"Day been crazy," Guidry said, breathing heavily as he turned to face the doctor. "Don't let dat boy bleed out over dere. Your daughter be a widow if it weren't for 'im."

"It's true," Eliot choked out, rubbing at the red marks on his throat. "He got shot shoving us out of the way."

"Ezra...get some plasma into that young man and stitch him up," Margie said brusquely. "I'll see to Eliot."

No one argued with her and Callen began to relax slightly as he secured his weapon, sagging as his adrenalin faded. He remained anxious though as he watched the doctor hang a bag of dark blood on a hook above Deeks' head. He could hear Elan in his ear, muttering something in Arapaho, and it did nothing to calm him. It had been almost two hours since Deeks had been shot and he looked clammy and very pale. Callen moved to stand at the head of the table, unable to resist resting a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. The doctor worked quickly, cleansing the open wound and then methodically stitching the ugly gouge closed.

"I'll put him on antibiotics to ward off infection, but he'll be fine," Mouton said as he taped a bandage over the long line of stitches.

"He lost a lot of blood," Jake said, unable to keep from sounding worried.

"I'm sorry for my earlier comments..." He stumbled over his apology, actually sounding contrite. "But he's my patient now and I owe him. He's not going to die. It was a simple wound. No need to worry now."

"Thank you," Callen found he was truly grateful to the man, but instinctively knew he was a part of the organization they had come here to put an end to.

"He'll be under for awhile," Margie said as she came up beside him. "You look like you could use some air."

Callen nodded, but was still reluctant to leave him alone with people he didn't trust. Margie sensed it, watching him as he hesitated to take her advice.

"Would you have shot him?" Her voice sounded small and he could tell she was afraid of him.

He wasn't sure he could answer that and it scared him. He didn't reply at all, simply ran his hand through Deeks' hair, resting it briefly on his head before he turned and walked out. He saw Guidry talking on his satphone next to the bullet ridden Mercedes, but he had no interest in being anywhere near him, so he walked down to the dock and out to where the sleek white boat floated innocently on the dark water. He stared at it, bitterness fouling his mouth as he thought about Joe and what had been done to Oscar Doucet and now to Deeks. He heard Roy in his ear praising his actions, but it was Elan's voice that calmed him. He simply kept reassuring him that Deeks was alright and his heart slowed as that truth slowly began to sink in. He eased himself down onto the dock, leaning back against a piling and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"His name is Eliot Dale," Roy said quietly in his ear. "He works for the DOJ, the little fuck. He married the Mouton's only child, Felicia. Eric is diggin' up all he can find on the good doctor, but y'all can bet your boots he's in this deep. We'll find out more about Eliot Dale too, and keep ya updated."

"You did well Mr. Callen," Hetty's voice startled him. "And please let Mr. Deeks know I'm proud of him. I've informed Kensi he was wounded, and she's anxious of course, but I'm keeping George Atwood in the dark for now. Agent Slater might push the wrong button and find a very tough Wyoming cowboy up his ass, and that might make some waves for all of us. Sam is in New Orleans. He knows your situation and I will be talking with him as soon as I am off comms with you. He's worried about both of you and wants word on Deeks' condition. He'll be greatly relieved when I give him the good news."

Callen turned his head away, so no one could see his face, desperately needing to speak to someone he trusted.

"I would have shot that shit if Guidry had told me to."

"Of course you would, Mr. Callen. You would have had no choice."

"I know."

"We have connections now we can follow. You're not alone Mr. Callen. Now get some rest. You sound exhausted."

The sound of someone on the dock kept him silent and he turned to see Guidry walking out to him. He scrambled to his feet and stood waiting, his mood darkening the closer he got.

"Dem two just a necessary evil," he said as he stared at the boat. "Don't like dealin' wid 'em, but da man dey answer to...he be skittish now. Sent dat couyon to check you out. Dumb fuck. Shoulda let ya shoot 'im."

"Sounds like I'm missin' somethin'," Jake said. "Thought they worked for you."

Guidry stared at him long and hard, and Callen waited, trying to look as if he didn't care whether he answered him or not. The information would be critical to their investigation and would let him know whether they had now earned this maniac's trust or not.

"Naw. Dat old man own most of dem wells we guard," Guidry said easily. "He a rich sonofabitch. How he can buy this here big ol' shiny boat."

"Then why does he need to work for somebody else?" Jake asked.

"You smart, Jake. I like dat," Guidry said, eying him with pride as if had discovered some treasure. "Dos two be a part of somethin' bigger we all fightin' for. Ta be free of a government makin' bad laws that keep us down and take away our God-given rights. Dey got a plan and we gonna make it happen."

"Sounds important," Jake said with a wide smile.

"It just be the beginnin'," he assured him. "We gonna make a statement dat lets the government know dey in dere last days."

"We're in," Jake said enthusiastically. "When do we start?"

"First I gotta find me a Fed dat got away," Guidry growled, his eyes dark with anger. "He know too much. Needs killin'."

"Hell. I'll kill 'im for ya," Jake said eagerly. "You just tell me where ta find 'im and Jimmy and I will hunt the fucker down and put 'im in the ground."

"You a tough sonofabitch, Jake. Need some 'un like you now Henry gone," Guidry said, eying him critically. "Jimmy needs ta heal up, so I'll have Digger take y'all on up to t'other camp on Gator Lake. I'll send Pea up tomorraw. He been huntin' that fuckin' Fed for awhile. Maybe y'all have better luck."

"If he's out there we'll find 'im," Jake promised. "Won't let ya down, boss,"

"Ain't so far," he replied, slapping him lightly on the cheek. "Still alive cause a y'all."

Callen felt lightheaded as the man walked away and began talking on his satphone again. He heard Roy and Elan in his ear, but could only listen to their enthusiastic comments, afraid to smile for fear of jinxing the surprise development. They were so close to finding Joe he could almost taste it and started walking back up to the house. He was anxious to let Deeks know they could now search for their lost brother with Guidry's blessing, using his own men to help them.

...

Joe felt a callused hand on his back, lifting him up and he struggled to raise his head, surprised he was too weak to do it as his head slumped into the crook of the old man's arm. He heard scolding whispers and familiar arguments, but it was the rich smell of food that encouraged him to open his eyes and made his stomach clinch into a knot of emptiness. The old man held him up gently as Iris sat down by him on the edge of the bed, her wrinkled black hand cupped around a yellow bowl steaming with pale soup. He licked his lips in anticipation, anxious as his stomach growled. Holding out the spoon to him, she fed him as she would a child, humming softly as he took in mouthfuls of the savory chicken broth, Augustine wiping the spills from his chin. His eyes watered at their kindness, blinking slowly as the warmth infused his weakened body, giving him hope that his ordeal might truly be over.

His night had been one full of fevered nightmares inhabited by dark-eyed men and long-toothed dogs slashing through garish green grasses to the heartbreaking sounds of piercing screams. He quivered at the memories he would never be rid of, his tears overflowing as an old man held him in his arms and a black angel fed him with dreams of a new day. His mind reached inward for images of his son, filling his senses with the remembered smell of milk that lingered on his baby boy's breath after he fed him a bottle for the first time. He longed for the overwhelming joy he felt when his wife laughed as they rode horses along the creek on his father's ranch. It all seemed so far away, another world he had lived in that he had somehow lost. Now he was in a place that promised peace and rest, but beneath it all was fear. His illusion was believing he was safe.

He suddenly pushed the spoon away and fought to get up, to run as he knew he must, to protect these protectors before he got them killed. He could not live through another killing, to watch as evil felled these innocent people with ravaging hatred they didn't deserve.

"I have to go," he choked out. "Dangerous for you..."

"Shush now, boy," Augustine's deep voice rumbled against his side as he held him firm. "You in no shape to go nowhere."

"You don't understand..." He mumbled.

"Course we do boy," Iris said as she pushed another spoonful of soup past his lips. "We lived a long time. We seen hard times and lived through 'em. We ain't ignorant of the evil in this world. Augustine preaches against it ever Sunday."

"You should listen to him Gramma," Xavier said, sounding resigned that they wouldn't.

"Cain't turn our backs on a man in need, son," Augustine replied firmly as he lay Joe back down on the bed. "What kind of Christians would we be if we do that?"

"We'd be alive," Xavier snapped back angrily.

"Would we?" Iris asked. "I don't know that kinda life. I'd be askin' forgiveness for the rest of my days if I throw this young man to them wolves."

"Papa T, please..."

"You 'member your daddy, Xavier?" The old man asked. "You was six when he was killed in the war. He was a soldier. A brave man who gave his own life for others. That's your birthright, boy. Don't deny that cause of fear."

"Afghanistan?" Joe asked, feeling a kinship when they all nodded. "I was there for two tours. I'm sorry for your loss."

Iris patted him on the chest as she wiped at her eyes, and Augustine simply got up and walked over to stare out the window. Iris went to him and the two walked out into the yard, leaving him alone with Xavier who continued to stare at him. His eyes were filled with the longing he'd seen in the children of his buddies, killed in the streets of Fallujah. Joe knew what he wanted. He wanted to know what it had been like for his father, and he wasn't sure he should give him that.

"My dad was a Marine," Xavier said with fierce pride and a lot of anger. "He promised to come back but he didn't. My brothers don't even remember him."

"You're mad at him," Joe said. "You think he lied to you, but he didn't. He wanted to believe it. He had to. We all did."

"It was a war. Men die in war," his voice taunting, as if he were stupid. "Don't tell me he thought he couldn't be killed."

"You think he should have told his six-year-old son he was going off to die?" Joe asked, suddenly angry with the boy. "No father would do that. No soldier would. My brother was killed in Iraq. I tried to talk him out of going, telling him just what you told me. I didn't want him to die. The dumbass laughed. Told me I worried too much. Told me he was a good soldier and that I should have faith that he could take care of himself. He didn't lie to me. He believed everything he said, and so did your father. It just didn't work out that way."

"You have kids?" He asked quietly, his surliness suddenly gone.

"A two-year-old son," his eyes blurring with tears as he pictured his little boy.

"Is what you're doing worth leaving him without a father?"

Stunned by the question he became silent as he searched deeply for the answer, one that he had to believe.

"Yes. I do. But I'll fight till my dying breath to get back to him. He'll be in my final thoughts just like you were in your father's."

Xavier nodded, his eyes bright with the tears he was too proud to shed. He picked up the yellow bowl his grandmother had left on the chair and carried it into the kitchen, pausing before washing it out.

"My brothers ask me about him all the time," he said as he stood drying the bowl. "I end up telling the same stories over and over, but they never get tired of hearing them. Was he your only brother?"

"I've got three other men I call brother," Joe replied. "One is my cousin, Elan. He's Arapaho. One I met while undercover. Name's Marty. We saved each other on that assignment. Came into my life full of anger and guilt, but when he smiled you'd never know it. He's a real smart ass and I love him for it. My newest brother is intense. Tough. Grew up rough...didn't even know his first name until recently. We call him by his last name...Callen."

"You sound close."

"We'd all give our lives for one another."

"Like real brothers," Xavier said.

"We are real brothers."

"Is that who you wanted to call last night?"

"Good question," Joe said. "Not sure who to trust right now except family."

"Would they come if you called?"

"Oh yeah," Joe laughed, always certain of that one thing. "It isn't the first time one of us has been in trouble."

"I'm going back to campus for a summer class tomorrow. I could call one of them for you," he offered.

"You'd do that?"

"Yeah...if it would get you out of here," he said with a laugh.

"You're right. I shouldn't stay here," Joe said, feeling completely drained. "Maybe I should go with you. What college you attending?"

"LSU on academic scholarship," he said with a hint of pride. "I'm studying for a B.S. in Environmental Management Systems."

"I didn't know your dad, but I'm pretty sure he would be proud as hell," Joe said with a tired smile. "How long to get to Baton Rouge?"

"Little over an hour," Xavier replied.

"You could drop me at the FBI office and I can take it from there," he said, feeling encouraged now that he had a plan.

"Is that where you work?" Xavier asked.

"No. My home office is in LA," he said. "I was working with a local task force in New Orleans."

"Can't you call them for help?"

The innocent question shattered his newfound confidence in his plan, reminding him of the betrayal that had ended Oscar's life in terrifying violence. He had no idea who else might be involved or compromised. If he walked into the FBI, who would they notify? They had to know he was missing by now, which means they must be looking for him. He'd be safe if he could get there. Wouldn't he? At least this innocent family would be safe from any retribution by Guidry if he was found here. He had to go and he had to trust the FBI to get him home.

"If you could get me to the FBI, I'll be out of your hair and you'll all be safe," he reasoned.

Xavier finally looked satisfied and Joe slumped down in the bed, confident that his nightmare was almost over. He needed to regain a little strength, to fight past the fever that continually racked him with chills, and then he would get to the one place he would be safe. He would call Diane and his dad, knowing how desperately worried they must be, and then he would call Deeks. He hadn't had a chance to talk with him before he left and he had missed that. They always talked before assignments in case it might be the last time. During the past couple of weeks he'd thought he had finally run out of luck and one of his many regrets was not having talked to his brother before he left. Their talks were usually full of smart ass jokes and teasing, but the undercurrent was always the deep caring they held for one another and the promise to watch over those they left behind. He knew Deeks would be distraught that he was missing. They all would, but he worried about Deeks more than the others. He was tough, but also fragile when it came to people he cared about. His greatest fear was losing one of them. He treasured the bond that he had formed with his family and with Callen, and he would be frantic to find him. If he could, Deeks would come for him. Elan and Callen too. That gave him comfort as he shivered with fevered chills and slipped toward sleep. Tomorrow he would get to a place where he would be safe, where he could call his family and ease their fears. Tomorrow he would be surrounded by the FBI and then he would finally be able to stop being afraid.

...

...


	12. Chapter 12

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 12_

...

She scrolled through the photos on her phone for the third time, lingering over the one of Deeks smiling broadly as he came out of the ocean with white surf foaming around his knees. He looked calm and happy, the smile coming so easily and making her miss him even more. Looking down at her cast, she reread the nicknames he had written there before he left, and she was suddenly angry that he would believe she considered him an "option" she could easily dismiss. She had wanted to pull him close in that hospital room, to convince him that she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life, that there was no one else who could fulfill her needs and deepest yearnings the way he did, but the unanswered questions about children just seemed to muddle things up. Why she resisted his need for an answer, she wasn't sure, except she didn't like being pushed to make a decision that would be so life changing for her. She had never liked being cornered, especially not emotionally. Why couldn't he see how difficult it was for her to make that commitment? Why did he feel the need to rush into it? He hadn't even asked her to marry him, and that had made it seem as if he wouldn't want to be with her if she decided against having children. They had the same argument over and over, going round and round the issue and growing no closer to a solution and she hated that, feeling it was all her fault at times or all his at others. Now he was out there undercover in the midst of vicious men who thought nothing of setting a pack of dogs on a man. He had been wounded and she was afraid for him. She could only hope the decision wouldn't be made for them, leaving her alone without the man she loved to the depth of her being.

"Take Pony, Kay Kay," Little Chris said, startling her out of her thoughts as he held the stuffed toy out to her.

Deeks had taught him to call her that, and at first it had bothered her, but now it sounded sweet coming from the little guy that looked so much like his father.

"Sorry Kensi. I told him not to bother you," Di said as she followed him into the living room. "Aunty Kens needs her rest, Sweetie."

"Pony help," he insisted as he started to climb up into her lap where she lay on the sofa.

"It's the one toy he wants when he's not feeling well," Diane said as she reached to pull him away.

"It's okay," Kensi said as the toddler straddled her stomach, causing her to wince and suck in her breath as one of his tiny knees connected with her tender ribs. "I could use the distraction."

"Oh, he's good at that," Di laughed, and Kensi could see the sadness behind it.

"Sounds like he's learned a few new words," she said, as the boy placed the stuffed pony on her chest.

"He's turning into a chatterbox," she replied, her voice dropping as she continued. "Keeps asking for his daddy."

"That's tough. What do you tell him?" Kensi asked.

"Daddy gone bye bye," Chris said with a yawn, slipping down between Kensi and the back of the sofa and cuddling against her.

"Time for his nap. I can take him if you like."

"No, it's okay," she replied. "I could use a hug."

"Me too," Di said softly, her eyes filling with sudden tears.

"Is it okay to talk?" Kensi asked, looking quickly around the room, wary of the bugs Michelle had warned her about.

"Hetty insisted Roger Stinson sweep the whole house clean of any listening devices," she replied, clearly pleased with the victory. "I thought that bastard Slater was going to pee his pants when he was informed. He was mad as hell. Stormed out of here like he had a bee up his ass."

Kensi laughed at the image in her head, happy for her and for George. "Must feel good to know you can finally talk freely."

"First time I've seen George smile since he got here," Di replied. "Heard anymore about Marty? George was really shaken when Elan called to tell him he'd been shot. Is he doing okay?"

"Elan called me again. Wanted to reassure me. The doctor treating Deeks said he would be fine, but I could tell Elan was still upset," Kensi said, slowly running her long fingers through Chris's curly hair.

"He was pissed wasn't he?"

"Yeah he was," Kensi smiled at her perceptiveness. "Frustrated too. He hated that he couldn't be there to help. Deeks had lost a lot of blood, and it scared him. Didn't trust the doctor either."

"Why?"

"Said he couldn't tell me that. Hetty's orders."

"George got so quiet," Diane said softly. "There was so much pain on his face and neither one of us could do anything to make the other one feel better. It's like he was holding his breath...waiting, you know?...like me...and like you. Kens...it's like we're expecting bad news now."

"Please don't lose hope..."

"I hate this," she snapped angrily. "I hate not knowing where Joe is and now Marty's wounded. How can you be so damn calm?"

"I'm not really, but I'm sort of used to it. Doesn't mean I'm not worried," Kensi replied. "I'm scared to death to be honest. Just like you. They're going to find him, Di. They won't come home until they do."

"I'm so sorry Marty got hurt," Diane whispered, dropping her head down, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Joe will hate that he got shot because of him."

"It wasn't Joe's fault, Di. We face the same danger every day. It comes with the job."

"Is that why you're afraid to have children?"

"I'm not afraid," Kensi snapped without thinking. "Sorry...We've been having lots of arguments about kids."

"He talks to Joe about it sometimes," Di said quietly. "Me too, but he doesn't always like what I have to say."

"I know he wants what you and Joe have, but I'm not sure that's me," Kensi said, as Chris clutched her shirt in his small fist as he slept. "Everything would change."

"It might change anyway," Di said. "No decision is still a decision."

"Did you always want kids?" Kensi asked softly, staring down at little Chris.

"Honestly, I didn't think much about it. I was happy. Loved my job. Loved being independent until I fell in love with Joe," she replied. "Having a kid just seemed like a natural outcome of our love for each other."

"That's what Deeks says," Kensi said.

"I know you said you're not afraid, Kensi...but you are," Di said. "You're afraid you'll be damned if you do and damned if you don't. You think he'll leave you if you don't agree and afraid you'll grow unhappy if you do and resent him because he pushed you into something you weren't ready for. But you have to find out what else you're afraid of, because it's not just your fear of losing Deeks. It's something else. Something deeper."

"I thought you were just a physical therapist," Kens said with wide eyes.

"We learn to care for all aspects of our patients' health, and that includes their emotional state...not to mention that I've watched you two together for awhile now. Sorry to break it to you, but neither one of you is that hard to read," Diane smiled. "It's just you and me, Kensi. George and Michelle won't be back for a few hours, so if you want to get into it, I'm here. We can hash out anything you want. You can curse and scream for all I care. I'll join you. You're pissed. I can feel it. So am I. You're like a sister to me, Kens...so say whatever you want. It won't go past this room."

"Unless Hetty put in a few bugs of her own," Kensi said, looking around as if she expected to find some.

"If anyone would understand your concerns it would be Hetty," Di said with a laugh. "I have a feeling she's made a lot of personal sacrifices in her life and not having children was undoubtedly one of them."

"You're probably right."

"So...stiff drink or coffee?" Diane asked as she got up. "Oops, sorry...forgot you were on some serious pain meds."

"Do you have any ice cream?"

"If you ever do have kids, they're going to love your sweet tooth," Di laughed as she headed for the kitchen.

The little boy nestled against her side, his small body warm and comforting. He made soft, almost mewing sounds in his sleep and a tiny bubble formed on his lips. It made Kensi smile and she slid down lower and tucked him up closer, marveling at the softness of his skin. She felt a sudden urge to touch his plump little fingers, but was afraid it would wake him, settling instead for pulling his blue and white striped top down to cover his little belly button. Deeks had bought him the shirt for his second birthday, and it had a graphic of a tiny red surfboard on the front. Deeks never had a problem bonding with kids of any age and they all responded to that smile of his. He was a natural and she had no doubt that he would be an incredible father, one completely the opposite of his own.

Diane was right. She was afraid of something other than losing Deeks or losing her job. She questioned her own ability to connect with a child the way Deeks did. She was a "daddy's girl". He was the one she had always emulated. She prided herself on being like him, not her mother. Deep down, her fear was that she would end up being more like her mother than her dad.

"Three scoops...two chocolate, one coffee," Diane said, handing her the bowl and spoon.

"Whipped cream's a nice touch," Kensi said appreciatively before sliding a spoonful into her mouth.

"You deserve to be pampered," Di said as she settled back in her chair and began delicately eating her own.

"My mother tried to take me away from my father when I was a little girl," she said haltingly, poking at her ice cream. "She just packed up the car and we drove away. When she told me we were never going back...I screamed at her. I told her I hated her and then I waited until she was in the bathroom at the motel and I ran."

"And you're afraid you'll be like her if you have a child."

"What if I already am?" Kensi asked. "What if I end up doing the same thing? She never came back, Di. She didn't fight for me. She just kept on going. She ran from me. Not just my dad. From me."

"Kensi...From what I've heard, you've never run from anything in your life."

"Even after my dad was killed I heard nothing from her," Kensi spoke softly, absently swirling the melting ice cream. "She didn't want me, Di, and I wonder now if she ever really did."

"Is that your fear? That you won't love your own child?" Diane asked gently. "Have you told Deeks?"

"I told him once that if I were ever to lose him I would be sorry that I didn't have a tiny piece of him to hold on to and to love," she said, letting her tears overflow. "Is that a good enough reason to have a child? It sounds so selfish."

"It isn't," she said gently. "When I look at Christopher now, he reminds me so much of Joe it's almost painful. I love Joe with all my heart and I always will, whether he comes home or not. But Chris is a piece of us both. The best of both of us and there are no words to express how much I love that little boy you're holding."

She stood and walked over and picked up her son, wrapping him in her arms and he snuggled against her.

"Your child won't just be a piece of Marty," she said through her tears. "He'll be a part of you too, Kensi. A child you carried inside of you for nine long months. The two of you will have created a unique person. A child forever connected to both of you. And if I know anything about you Kensi Blye, I know you will love your child just as fiercely as you love Marty, because you don't know how to do things any other way."

...

Sam fidgeted with the thick knot of his dark blue tie as he waited for the elevator. The collar of the gray, silk dress shirt constricted the anger that rose in his throat, the news about what had happened still unsettling. It was frustrating to be stuck in New Orleans when Deeks was lying wounded somewhere out in the boonies, surrounded by men who would kill him without a second thought, with a partner he was pretty sure was pissed and right on the edge of doing something stupid. He'd insisted that Roy repeat everything Callen had said verbatim, and then grilled Elan about how he'd sounded emotionally, until the big Arapaho said something softly under his breath in his own language, making him realize he might have pushed too hard and been slightly unreasonable in his questions. He knew how Callen got when someone hurt Deeks, and it had eased his mind somewhat when he was told his partner had killed the man who shot him. Callen was usually quite dispassionate, but not when it came to the man he had finally come to accept as his true brother. To say he was over-protective would be an understatement. It was why Hetty had sent him along on overwatch. But it was also Hetty who had not allowed him to speak directly to Callen after the shooting, and that had made him mad. She'd insisted he needed to concentrate on his own undercover assignment as Frank Goodman of the DOJ, telling him getting caught up in what Deeks and Callen were doing would be a distraction they could ill afford at this time. He'd been sent all the information Nell and Eric had gathered on Eliot Dale, but they could find nothing that connected him to anyone on the New Orleans Task Force. The information was troubling and made his undercover assignment that much tougher. He would be on a scouting mission that would need all of his attention in reading the personalities of the men and women he was about to encounter, and Hetty had known that.

He straightened his tie once again as the elevator arrived at the top floor of a four-story brick building in the Warehouse District. The task force was the lone tenant on the floor, so he walked straight out of the elevator and up to the front desk, which looked to be constructed from steel I-beams and aged copper. The woman behind the imposing desk was imposing in her own right, black and incredibly attractive, and who eyed him sharply as he approached.

"Can I help you?" She asked, her voice sultry and with no hint of a Southern accent.

"Franklin Goodman of the DOJ, National Security Division," he said firmly, although he couldn't help but smile at the woman. "I'm here to meet with the director."

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked.

"I'm pretty sure he's expecting me," Sam said warmly. "And if he needs confirmation he can call the Attorney General. Now, let him know I'm here...please."

"Did they give you a badge?" She asked flippantly.

"And a very high security clearance," he said easily as he held up his fake ID.

She glared at him for a flash of a second, but his smile must have finally overcome her natural reserve. She kept her eye on him as she called her boss, while he looked around the ultra modern space that looked the opposite of most government offices.

"This space was originally home to a failed dot com company," she said as if reading his mind. "It was cheaper for the task force just to keep the look."

"I'm not here about your expenses," he replied.

"I imagine not," she said, her voice softening. "If I can help you with anything, please let me know."

"Are you talking about restaurants or inside information?"

"Emeril's is a couple of blocks over," she replied, her eyes calculating. "Order the rack of lamb."

"That the only thing on the menu?" He asked, hoping she wouldn't misconstrue his meaning.

"It is right now," she replied. "Unless I've read you wrong, and you make me kick your ass."

"Happily married man," he said, huffing out a laugh. "And I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I was referring to."

"Anybody ever tell you you're full of yourself?"

"You're not the regular secretary are you?"

"Lila's out sick and I got the short stick," she replied. "FBI Agent Safa Jordan."

"You're not from around here are you?" He asked, warming to the woman's demeanor, and flirting just a bit.

"That all you got? You actually got someone to marry you with that weak stuff you're pushin'?"

"I just noticed you have no accent," he laughed. "And my wife is tougher than the both of us."

"Asked to be transferred to New Orleans after my brother got drafted by the Saints," she finally offered.

"Bet you get good seats on game day," he said.

"He's a pushover," she laughed. "He's my baby brother and he knows not to cross me."

"I got a feelin' most men don't cross you," Sam said with respect.

"Most don't even try," he replied.

"Now that's a real shame," he said, smiling widely at the woman.

"You here to clean house?" She asked, suddenly quite serious.

"If there's anyone you think should be gone you let me know," growing serous himself.

"I'm not a rat," she said in a low, warning voice.

"Somebody was."

"That someone wasn't from around here either," she said sullenly. "I saw the bulletin on the traitor everyone in the bureau is looking for. Joe Atwood. Turned on his own partner and got him killed. He's the rat."

Sam found it hard not to blow his own cover as he watched the woman's face twist in disgust as she spoke Joe's name. He wanted nothing more than to defend the honorable man he knew, but now wasn't the time. This woman might eventually help him, so he kept his face solemn and nodded.

"He might not be the only one," he warned. "So if you are suspicious of anyone I expect your cooperation. I need that from you."

He saw her look around her for the first time, and saw the nervousness that hadn't been there before. She was definitely worth talking to again. He could see it in the way she stared back at him, unable to keep the emotion from her face. She knew something. All he had to do was encourage her to help. She read people well and she knew the staff and the members of the task force. He needed her to cooperate and he needed to talk to her in private.

"Interested in joining me for dinner?" He asked, smiling again. "It's my first day in a new town. New restaurant. You could walk me through the menu. Tell me what's good, other than the lamb, of course. I'm buyin'."

"Damn right you are," she said quickly, a relieved smile flashing briefly, but he could see the intelligence in her final expression. "Emeril's at nine. Tell 'em Cameron sent you."

"What position your baby brother play?" He asked as he saw the director walking toward him with a couple of men.

"Defensive end," she replied. "Looks like you played a little football yourself."

"Wide receiver," he said, hoping Eric was still listening in on comms and adding that to his legend.

"Mr. Goodman? I'm Director Harrison White. This is Special Agent Colin Murphy of Homeland Security and Special Agent Bryce Overton, our counterterrorism analyst."

"Gentlemen. I'm assuming you have a private conference room we can use?" Sam asked, looking each man over with a critical eye.

"Of course. Follow me," White said, sounding slightly affronted by his sharp tone.

Eric came on comms as he walked between workstations toward a wall of multi-paned windows. The tech reiterated the information he'd shared with Sam during his drive into the city, giving him a brief synopsis on each of the men he was with, highlighting their impressive records and pointing out the reprimand in Overton's personnel file. None of them seemed the type to betray their country or the people they worked with, but Sam couldn't let that blind him, so he kept his mind sharp as he was ushered into a glass enclosed room dominated by a smart board and a large table with four laptops strategically placed. They were ready for him, so he decided to immediately go on the offensive.

"Which one of you was Joe Atwood's handler?"

"I thought this was about the mole, Peter Sawyer?" Director White said quickly, his eyes going dark under his bushy gray eyebrows.

"This is about a lot of things, gentlemen," Franklin Goodman boomed out as only Sam Hanna could. "Washington is calling this a clusterfuck, as my immediate superior noted before I left, and they won't settle for anymore bullcrap coming out of this task force. Now, unless you all want to be working out of North Dakota for the foreseeable future, tell me who was handling Joe Atwood? Someone here had to be his FBI contact."

"None of us knew who Joe Atwood was until Sawyer was outed," Overton said. "All we were told was that Atwood was a traitor working with the terrorists and The Brotherhood. Then a few days later a special ops team swooped in and arrested Sawyer in his office."

"Seems no one has very good investigative skills around here," Goodman said smugly.

"Joe Atwood is a traitor who has nothing to do with this task force," Colin Murphy of Homeland Security said, obviously irritated. "We are a disciplined team of men and women dedicated to tracking down these terrorists and shutting down The Brotherhood."

"Really? Then explain how a mole was working right under your noses delivering classified information to the terrorists you're trying to bring down," Frank Goodman railed at them. "And while you're at it, explain how this so-called well oiled task force had someone you are refusing to name, handling an FBI undercover agent inside The Brotherhood who is now being hunted as a traitor and who was supposedly working with those same terrorists. Do you know how bad this really looks in DC? All of your careers are on the line here, so who the hell knew FBI agent Joe Atwood was undercover in The Brotherhood?"

"We don't know," Director White admitted sheepishly.

"I don't think I believe you director," Frank Goodman said, anger settling into the bottom of his stomach.

"Are you accusing us of lying?" Murphy growled, his face growing red as he clinched his fist on the table.

"You're either incredibly easy to fool or you're lying and it doesn't really matter which," Goodman said coldly. "Believe me when I tell you...this will not look good on any of your records. So think real hard about who his contact here might have been and when I come back tomorrow I want an answer or I'm personally interviewing every single member of this task force."

"What reason could we possibly have to lie to you?" Overton asked, his hazel eyes wide behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

"Embarrassment? Trying to cover up you're own incompetence," Franklin Goodman piled it on, watching for any telltale response that might reveal who had betrayed Joe.

"Your comments are outrageous," the director said as he pushed back his chair and stood, almost shaking with anger.

"You can't really believe what you're saying," Overton said, looking baffled as he stared at him.

"Then give me a reason not to," Goodman shot back. "To be perfectly honest, this task force is a disgrace."

Colin Murphy was on his feet immediately and looked ready to take a swing at Sam and might have if Overton hadn't taken his arm.

"I'll be speaking with your superior, Mr. Goodman," Director White said haughtily as he started to leave. "Your comments are unacceptable and way out of line."

"Here's her private number," he replied. "Enjoy your conversation. I'll see you gentlemen tomorrow."

Sam turned and smiled inwardly at the turmoil he'd created. Hopefully it would get a rise out of more than just these three.

"Interesting tactic, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said tersely in his ear. "I fear it's quite possible I will be in need of ear plugs when Director White finally calms down enough to call. Hopefully you've stir the hornets' nest just enough. I have a call in to Roger Stinson. I believe he knows who Joe's handler was and he's going to tell me whether he wants to or not. I'll let you know as soon as I have something."

...

Having decided to arrive at the restaurant a little early, he sat quietly at the bar and observed the scene. He was wearing a button cam and had Nell in his ear tonight, watching for anyone who might be on the task force. She had been going through the files of many of the top level agents and was familiar with their faces, and using a specific facial rec program she and Eric had developed that would scan through the task force's personnel files if they needed to. Sam sat at the bar savoring a fine Argentine Malbec, his phone close to his ear so those around him would assume he was talking on it while he asked Nell questions over comms.

"How's our boy doing?" He asked.

"The same as he was an hour ago," she said, and he had to smile at her scolding tone. "Deeks is on his feet and making jokes about their new location as you might imagine. Lots of corny references to Deliverance, but..."

"But what? What's wrong? Is it G?"

"Calm down, Sam," she chided. "They just seem a bit nervous. The men in camp are real hard-core militants. The news that they saved Guidry's life preceded them, so they are trusted and being shown some deference, but Callen is worried that when they do locate Joe Atwood, these men will kill him before they can stop them. Deeks went silent after that. Not even Callen could get him to say anything."

"I'm wondering if he should have been on this assignment at all," Sam said. "He's too close to it."

"You know he would have just gone rogue if Hetty had tried to keep him here," she reminded him.

"I know," he replied. "Hetty get a name from Stinson?"

"I won't repeat her exact words, but that would be a big 'no' followed by a long line of expletives."

"She got any idea why he won't reveal it?"

"I believe she is attempting to go over his head on that one."

"As only Hetty can."

"So your date tonight is kinda hot," Nell teased. "Does Michelle know about your little clandestine meeting?"

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Sam smiled.

"Remember I can hear everything and pretty much see everything too," she replied. "Don't steam up Hetty's button cam."

"That ain't happenin'," he said with a light chuckle as he saw Safa walk in the front door. "Gotta go...she's here."

She spotted him immediately and headed his way, and he heard Nell do a wolf whistle in his ear. Safa's hair was loose, in a natural Afro that framed her face, her eyes darkly made up and her lips a deep red, making him wonder if she was going to try and seduce him. It certainly got his guard up.

"I think she likes you," Nell sing-songed.

"You are one hell of a good looking woman," Sam said to Safa as she stopped in front of him.

"Hungry?" She asked in her sultry voice, making him unsure if that was a come-on or a legitimate question.

"I hope you're referring to the rack of lamb," he replied, feeling slightly off balance.

"What else?" Her eyebrows raised and smiling seductively as if mocking him.

"Can I buy you a drink before dinner?" He asked quickly.

"I have a bottle of wine waiting in our private room," she said and turned, sashaying away, beckoning him to follow.

He was fairly sure if he was being played, and got the distinct feeling she was working him for information as much as he was trying to work her. She was good too. The question in his mind was why and for whom. The private room was way in the back, with one large round table set for two. He saw her tip the waiter before he poured the dark red wine, none of it lost on Nell as she told him to be careful. He grunted his acknowledgement and plastered a huge smile on his face as she handed him one of the glasses of wine, expertly swirling her own.

"What are we drinking?" He asked.

"Brunello di Montalcino," she replied, holding her glass up in a toast.

"Should pair well with the lamb," he said before sniffing the deep red liquid with appreciation.

"You're a connoisseur," she noted. "What else are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The men you met with this afternoon had quite a few names for what they think you are," she replied, her eyes now hard and inquisitive. "None of them very nice."

"Which one of them do you answer to?"

"You think this is a set up?"

"Isn't it?" He replied, his smile fading. "You definitely have some agenda tonight."

"Maybe I simply find you attractive," she replied, but they both knew she was lying.

"Or you were sent to find out what my agenda is, and if I'm a danger to you," he said calmly. "The whole sexy seduction thing is kind of a tip off. Old school. You're good at it and I would normally appreciate your skill, but I really don't have the time to let it play out. Now...who set this up?"

"Who the hell are you?" She asked coldly. "Cause you're definitely not DOJ."

"Who told you that?" He asked, setting his wine down as Nell alerted him she was pulling the woman's file.

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," she said with a smile, setting her own glass down.

"Old school jokes too. Okay. Let's say you could try and kill me. Why do you want to?" His hand sliding behind his back to grip his gun.

"Because I don't trust anyone right now, especially someone who walks in and throws the task force into turmoil," she said, her dark eyes piercing even in the low light.

"Did I disrupt someone's plans?" He asked, pulling his weapon and holding it where she could see it. "You in touch with the men running the mole, Peter Sawyer?"

"You think I'm working with the terrorists?" She asked, her surprise real.

"Are you?"

"Who's asking?" She demanded defiantly.

"Did you know Joe Atwood was undercover with The Brotherhood?" Sam asked, growing tired of their dance.

"What happens if I say yes?" She asked quietly.

"Do you think he's a traitor like they say?"

"Do you?" She asked.

"I asked you first."

He saw a slight sag in her shoulders and he knew he had bested her. He saw a hint of resignation, but also defeat and he thought she probably hated that feeling.

"Joe Atwood is one of the most dedicated field agents I have ever met. He's honest and brave and I think the charges against him are a sack of shit," she said, sounding relieved and looking defiant. "If that opinion costs me my job then so be it."

"You were his handler," Sam said softly, tucking his gun behind his back.

"Oscar Doucet's too," she admitted, tears suddenly standing in her eyes. "Now will you tell me who you are?"

"Special Agent Sam Hanna," he replied. "I work for NCIS, Office of Special Projects in LA. Our team has been authorized by Terrance Rigby, head of the National Joint Terrorism Task Force to find Joe Atwood."

"He's not a traitor," she said fiercely.

"We know."

"How?"

"Because he's our brother," he said softly. "We're here to bring him home safe and clear his name. Can you help us do that?"

"Whatever it takes," she said, lifting her glass to join Sam in a toast to their new partnership.

...

...


	13. Chapter 13

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 13_

...

The warning about gators had been followed by a deep sneering laugh and a too hard slap on the back, but he felt he should heed it nonetheless. The man delivering it was a classic hard ass right out of one of those B movies you find on TV late at night when you can't sleep and need raw action to clear your mind. He sure as hell looked the part and had no trouble acting the part, seeming to relish the wide berth most of the men gave him. Callen was on edge around him, especially after the back slap, which had made him stumble and almost collapse, earning him another sneering laugh. He just loved being tested so soon after having a bullet wound stitched up. Fully aware these men were Guidry's top militia unit, Callen had still stepped up to protect him and he'd been forced to use a bit of dirty humor to ease the tension between the two men.

His name was Saint-Jean, but everyone called him Saint, which he most definitely was not. He wore a short camo jacket with the sleeves cut off above his bulging biceps and unbuttoned to show off his bare chest and impressive abs. Deeks asked where he got the steroids he was obviously on, and it had earned him one of the sharpest looks he'd ever gotten from Callen. Saint had taken the question seriously and wasn't offended at all. He proudly showed off his ripped muscles in a classic pose worthy of Bluto from the Popeye cartoons Deeks used to watch as a kid, which is what he called him when he found a moment alone with Callen. The bulked up man walked around camp heavily armed at all times and was the one leading the hunt for his brother Joe.

The camp itself was rugged, and most of the men slept in hammocks on raised platforms open to the sky. They had been given one of the few cabins on Guidry's orders. Saint had spit in the dirt at Pea's feet when he was informed of the special treatment, defiant until told of the shooting. His look of surprise would piss Jimmy Hale off Deeks reasoned, so he stared stonily at him until the man came over and clapped him hard on the shoulder and welcomed him to camp, although he wasn't sure he meant it.

Their tiny, one-room cabin overlooked the lake, which was blacker than the sky, except around the edge, which was bright green with foul smelling algae. They had no porch, the camp chairs sitting in the dirt outside, and only one window, but they did have a door this time and it gave them some much-needed privacy.

"Watch yourself with that guy," Callen said as he settled into the camp chair beside him. "I doubt he even has a sense of humor, and you already scared the shit out of me enough for one day."

"It wasn't that bad," Deeks replied.

"How would you know? You were unconscious most of the time."

"You blaming me for that? I couldn't help it. You know that right?" he asked, wondering if Callen was mad at him for getting shot.

"You bled all over my favorite jeans," Callen said with a smirk.

"That definitely wasn't my plan," he replied, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"You still lightheaded?" He asked.

"Only when I try to stand up...or lie down...or when Bluto gives me one of his not-so-friendly slaps on the back."

"Don't be a smart ass around that guy...okay?" There was fondness in his voice, but he stared at him intently until he nodded his agreement.

Callen hadn't left his side since he'd regained consciousness after surgery. His mind had been fuzzy from the drugs, but as they'd carried him out into the sun it had been hard to miss the tension in the argument going on over him. The doctor had actually cursed Guidry, which had brought him fully awake and had caused Callen to pull his gun. There had been a subtle change in Guidry's treatment of Jake Hale since the shooting, and they had stood side by side against the doctor as he'd ranted about Guidry's incompetence. Even barely conscious, he'd seen the deep rage simmering in that rough looking man, and wondered how long before he would allow it to explode. Callen had hovered over him as he'd tried to get comfortable in the makeshift bed they'd prepared in the bow of the boat that had brought them here, his caring and concern a comfort he realized he'd grown used to. Once they'd arrived at camp and been left alone in the cabin, Callen had confirmed that the good doctor was high up in the terrorist organization, but he'd said little about his own personal elevation in the eyes of Antoine Guidry.

"What are you thinking?" Callen asked, drawing him back to the present.

"Guidry trusts you now."

"Yeah. You too. But Saint doesn't," he replied. "And he's in charge up here."

"We can't let that guy gets eyes on Joe before we do," Deeks whispered as he stared out at the dark lake. "He'll shoot him down without a second thought."

"Not if we shoot him first," he replied, the stark reality of his words chilling in the warm darkness.

A couple of shouts ended their conversation and Callen helped him up so they could go find out what was going on. The center of camp was lit by a scattering of propane lanterns and a couple of flaming barrels of burning trash and limbs from the dead trees that littered the far end of the lake. Deeks didn't recognize any of the men that walked into the smoky light, but their camaraderie with the men in camp was obvious as they clasped hands and pulled each other into manly hugs, laughing and talking loudly in Cajun. They all carried hunting rifles, and one man handed Saint a large jug of clear liquid he guessed might be moonshine or some kind of homemade brew. He muttered Deliverance under his breath, and saw Callen crack a smile before whispering that all they needed was a banjo.

When they were spotted, the men stopped and looked them over suspiciously, coiled for action until Pea explained who they were and why they were there. Most of the men slowly relaxed, but one man stared at Deeks for a long time, finally making a short comment in Cajun that seemed to put all the men on edge again, except for Saint.

"This ugly sonofabitch is Rigo," Saint said to Deeks, walking over to throw an arm across his shoulder. "Watch your back, Jimmy. Tino's his brother. He's pissed about you punchin' his big ol' brother in the nuts, so he might be lookin' for payback. But as far as I'm concerned, that fat asshole probably deserved it. Sure as hell slowed down his love life, not that he had much of one."

"Fuck you, Saint," Rigo growled through a thick mustache.

"I'll kill you if ya try," Saint said evenly as if he thought it was a possibility.

"We think we know where that fuckin' Fed is," Rigo reported, ignoring the threat. "Think a creole family took 'im in. They got a place just south of Butte La Rose."

"That ol' black preacher man?" Pea asked. "Done already checked it. Ain't nothin' and nobody there 'cept him and his wife, and three black boys. They dumb as posts. All of 'em."

"Beau's been watchin' the place," Rigo replied. "They actin' weird."

"No use arguin' about it. Me and the new guys will check it out," Saint said as he turned to look at both of them. "First light. You up for that, hero boy?"

The condescension in his voice and the name he'd been called instantly got under Deeks' skin and Callen saw that, resting a hand at the base of his neck as he stared back at the man and nodded. Deeks felt the subtle pressure and it held him in place, and he realized that he wanted nothing more than to beat the man's face in. His fear for Joe set him on edge and close to losing control of his emotions and good sense. That Callen understood calmed him and he turned to flash a quick, grateful smile at him.

"Ya ain't goin' without me," Rigo said, his nostrils flaring as he stood his ground.

"No never mind ta me, man," Saint said coolly, before pointing at the jug he held. "That the PLX?"

"Guidry said to test it before he comes up," Rigo said. "Don't want no mistakes this late in the game."

"I don't make mistakes," Saint growled.

The two men walked off together and Callen immediately dug his fingers into Deeks' shoulder, pulling him back toward the cabin. He could feel him practically vibrating and his own stomach clinched in agitation. Once they were inside and the door was closed, Callen made his way in the darkness to the farthest corner and spoke softly into the comms.

"Roy? Were you listening?"

"Heard it. Don't like it."

"Is that what I think it is?" Elan asked as Callen stared at Deeks, who was feeling weak in the knees even though he was sitting on the edge of his cot.

"PLX is a liquid explosive," Roy said calmly. "Combined with C4, RDX or Semtex it can do some serious damage."

"So we know they're gonna blow something up, we just don't know what," Deeks said quietly.

"Or where," Callen added.

"I'll pass this on to Hetty while you two go get your brother," Roy said. "I got a feelin' he might just know the what and the where. Makes sense why they want him so bad."

"They also might want to question him before they kill him," Callen said, keeping his voice low. "Find out if he gave anyone the information. They won't pull a raid till they're sure of that."

"At least that gives us an advantage," Deeks said. "They won't just go in shooting."

"But if he is with that family, it'll make it harder on you two," Elan cautioned. "You'll have to be extra careful not to get them killed and that takes away some of your edge."

"Saint won't have any qualms about killing innocents," Deeks replied sadly.

"He ain't gonna have no qualms about killin' you either, boy," Roy warned. "So stay safe and watch your six. I'm just startin' ta like you."

"Don't go gettin' soft on me, dickwad," Deeks sniped, but the man's kind comment had touched him.

"That doctor give you anything for the pain, Cuz?" Elan cut in.

"The nice nurse did."

"Then take some and get some rest," Elan ordered firmly.

"You don't have to worry about me, Elan."

"Then quit getting hurt," he snapped back.

"You forget France, brother?" Deeks asked, not liking the rebuke. "That was you bleeding out on the bed."

"Enough you two," Callen grumbled.

"They always do this?" Roy asked.

"You should hear 'em when Joe's around," Callen smirked. "They never shut up."

"Any news from Sam?" Deeks asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.

"Yeah. He found Joe's handler, or she found him...not sure which," Roy reported.

"She?" The two replied in unison.

"Name's Safa Jordan, FBI agent who transferred down here from DC," Roy continued.

"Roy failed to mention she's beautiful and incredibly hot," Elan said and Deeks could hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm gonna tell Lily you said that," he teased.

"Did Sam say he trusted her?" Callen interrupted to ask softly.

"Sounded like he does for now," Roy replied. "Nell is monitoring their meeting tonight and she promised to pass on the details when it's over."

"Elan?"

"Yeah, Cuz?"

"If we do find Joe tomorrow can you be close by?" Deeks asked.

"You won't see me, but I'll be there," Elan replied. "If you need backup just say 'notonoh' oeheb'. It means 'my brother'."

"Seriously? Got anything shorter and easier to say?" Deeks said, glaring at Callen for laughing.

"How about 'niiteheibi? It means 'help me'."

"Really?"

"Then just say 'dumbass'. I know you can pronounce that," Elan said, sounding mildly exasperated.

"Suits 'im too," Roy said with a hooting laugh.

"Watch yourself tomorrow, Elan," Callen said quietly, pulling them back to the reality of what they'd be facing. "Not sure how many men will be going with us."

"He won't be alone," Roy replied. "He may be a former Army Ranger and got good genes from his forefathers an all, but I know that swamp. No way he don't get lost without me along."

Deeks heard the sharp retort in Arapaho and Roy growling something back in Cajun and he shook his head and removed his earwig, growing tired and trying not to worry. Callen was watching him and signed off for the night, maneuvering easily through the dark to grab a bottle of water and pick up one of the small packets of pain pills and the antibiotics the nurse had handed him.

"Gotta feeling Saint means to leave before sun up, so take these and get some sleep," Callen said. "I'll wake you in time to change your dressing."

"You think we'll finally find him?" Deeks said, the darkness of the cabin adding to his feeling of isolation, leaving him disquieted about what was coming.

"Tomorrow or the next day...as long as it takes," Callen said, resting a comforting hand briefly on his shoulder.

...

Sam covered his wine glass with his hand as the waiter prepared to pour what remained of the Brunello. He silently redirected him to Safa who also declined, graciously offering the rest of the bottle to the young man, who smiled and bowed before leaving them alone once again.

"You were right about the rack of lamb," Sam said warmly. "And the wine."

"I just hope I'm right about you," she said as she leaned back in her chair and critically observed him. "You're monitoring this whole conversation aren't you? Probably wearing a button cam too. Who should I say hello to?"

"An analyst so smart it makes my teeth hurt sometimes," Sam replied, hearing a softly murmured hum in his ear. "And by now, she probably knows when you lost your virginity and with who."

"Sounds like whoever is on the other end of your comm link likes to dig deep. Good luck with that, whoever you are," she said with a shrug. "Still don't trust me, Sam?"

"Maybe not completely just yet, but that comes with the job," he replied. "My partner is even more suspicious of things that come in pretty packages and tied up in bows."

"What is it about me that makes you suspicious?" She asked and he could see she was genuinely curious. "Surely it's not because of my looks. I doubt very seriously if your wife is some dowdy little lady that sits at home and knits."

"No...she ain't dowdy by a long shot and I knit better than she does," Sam laughed.

"Then what? Tell me or this partnership is dead in the water," she said sharply.

"Tell me how you knew I wasn't DOJ," he replied with a smile as he leaned across the table.

"You have a habit of sounding threatening even when you're smiling," she said, remaining calm and not the least bit intimidated.

"Partners don't keep secrets," he replied.

"That's a lie and you know it," she laughed. "It's something all of us would like to believe, but deep down know it's not remotely possible because everyone keeps secrets in this business."

"You're right, but this is one secret I need to know," he said, easing back in his chair. "Who assigned you to handle Joe Atwood and Oscar Doucet? Simple question."

"One I was ordered not to answer," she replied.

Sam startled when his phone rang and he instantly feared something had happened to Callen or Deeks and he saw the concern in Safa's eyes. She had read him easily, making him even more curious about her.

"Put me on speaker, Mr. Hanna," Hetty ordered. "This will be a conference call."

"We got company," Sam said as he set the phone down between them.

"Miss Jordan? My name is Henrietta Lange, NCIS Office of Special Projects. Sam is one of my agents, and I believe you already know the gentleman joining us. Morgan Bellamy, Deputy Assistant Attorney General, National Security Division. He oversees the Office of Intelligence in Washington. Your boss, I believe."

"You're not FBI," Sam said with resignation as Safa simply shrugged.

"Agent Hanna, I hope you understand. After the mole was discovered, and because of the sensitivity of the operation involving the New Orleans task force and the terrorists they are investigating, the heads of several agencies were called upon to provide intel and undercover agents who could not be compromised," Bellamy stated, his voice resonating with authority. "We each agreed to keep our part of the operation secret, including any agents involved. That's why neither Terrance Rigby, head of the Joint Terrorism Task Force here in Washington, nor Roger Stinson, XO of the FBI's National Security Branch knew who was handling Joe Atwood and Oscar Doucet. Safa Jordan answers only to me."

"Don't take this the wrong way sir," Sam said, suddenly angry with the bureaucracy. "Then who the hell fucked up? Or is that a secret too?"

"Calm down Sam," Hetty said kindly.

"That's a little tough to do when Joe Atwood's been branded a traitor and is running for his life. Oscar Doucet was torn to shreds by dogs and dumped in a bayou. Two members of my team are undercover with the men who did that and one has already been shot. I don't intend to calm down until somebody tells me who in this task force is responsible for all that."

"Sam?" Safa said quietly as if she might spook him. "Even if we discover who blew Joe and Oscar's cover, arresting him might send the terrorists underground. It might put your people in more danger with The Brotherhood."

"Are you saying we should just stand by and do nothing?" Sam asked with barely restrained anger. "Or are you just covering your ass cause you got nothing to show for the time you've been here?"

"Mr. Hanna!" Hetty said sharply. "This isn't like you. We are all on the same team here and we have work to do."

"What I'm suggesting is that you and I feed the suspects I do have with a little false information," she said. "Something that might send The Brotherhood on a wild goose chase."

"Well, I suggest you do it quickly because I just received information that has pushed this op close to the boiling point," Hetty cut in. "I believe the time for secrecy is over. We need all hands on deck for this one, and we need to work together."

"What's happened, Henrietta?" Bellamy asked.

"The Brotherhood is testing PLX, we assume with different explosives," she reported. "My men in the field believe The Brotherhood is close to finding Agent Atwood and that he quite possibly knows what the target is."

"That's why they're after him," Sam said quietly. "They'll take him alive and torture him to find out if he told anyone else."

"They're afraid their attack plan may be compromised," Safa added.

"At least that buys us some time," Bellamy said, sounding a bit exasperated. "Do you think your men can get to Atwood first?"

"They will do anything it takes to bring him safely home," Hetty replied. "Sam? You and your new partner need to cause a little chaos at that task force. Let's see who panics if they believe Joe may already be out of their reach."

"Safa? Work with Agent Hanna and let's flush out the bastard who got one of our own butchered," Bellamy ordered, his voice reverberating with anger.

"And you, Mr. Bellamy, need to find out who Eliot Dale is working with at the DOJ," Hetty said. "These terrorists are walking your own halls and you need to root them out."

"I'm working on it, Ms. Lange," he replied. "Knowing there are traitors in our midst is quite disturbing, and I won't tolerate it."

"Let's get to work then," Hetty said and signed off as did Morgan Bellamy, leaving Sam and Safa staring at each other.

"Who do you suspect?" Sam asked immediately.

"Not here," she said quickly. "Let's go to my place. I have files on each of them there."

"How'd you manage that?" He asked with a smile.

"I'm a spy," she replied flippantly. "How do you think?"

"How high is your security clearance anyway?" Sam asked as they both stood up to leave.

"Jealous?"

"Just curious," he replied.

"Let's just say this ain't my first rodeo," Safa said, seeming to enjoy the lighthearted banter.

"You do like your trite clichés," Sam teased. "You use that one on Joe Atwood?"

"Tried it. He laughed and threatened to get me on a horse after this op was over," she replied somberly. "I hate to even think of him out there all alone with those bastards closing in. He's a good man, and I want him to make it. My security clearance won't matter if I lose him too."

Sam nodded and smiled kindly at her, his trust in her cemented by her comments about Joe. He could see that she cared and that made all the difference.

"I'll get the check," he said.

"Already taken care of," she replied. "I like to spoil my men."

"Nell, if this part of our conversation is leaked to my wife, I will hunt you down," Sam said quickly into comms when he heard her laugh.

"Tell her not to worry, Nell. He's not my type," Safa said as she smirked at the button cam on Sam's shirt.

"Bet that was a little tough on the ego, Sam," Nell taunted. "Please let her know her secret is safe with me."

"What does that mean? What secret?" Sam asked as Safa guided him toward a back door.

"Sounds like she found out who I lost my virginity to," Safa said with a smile. "You're good Nell. You and I should have drinks. I'm sure we both have some pretty good stories to share."

"Tell her I look forward to it," Nell told Sam.

"I am not being the go between for you two," Sam warned.

"Then set me up with comms," Safa said. "We're partners now and it'll make things easier. Besides, I want to hear Nell's voice. Tell me what she looks like."

"What? No," Sam said, confused by the conversation.

He pushed through the back door and walked out into the alley, the area around the doorway brightly lit. He was distracted by the sounds coming through the open screen door of the kitchen, but Safa said something and he turned back just as a bullet hit the brick wall next to his head, sending shards flying. Sam hit the ground and grabbed for his gun, vibrating with adrenaline as Safa yelled for him to get back inside. She was hidden just inside the doorway and was firing into the dark and he scrambled toward her. The methodical staccato sound of bullets hitting the building followed him inside, but he quickly got into a prone position and began firing toward the lower windows of the warehouse across the alley where the shots were coming from.

"You see him?" Sam choked out as he continued to fire.

"Just the muzzle flashes," she said as she reloaded. "You hit?"

"Just a nick," he breathed out. "Nell...get us some help down here."

Sam ran his fingers over the back of his head where he felt a searing sting, touching the warm trickle of blood that had run down into his collar. Nell was yelling in his ear and he finally told her to be quiet, assuring both of them that he was fine. When the firing abruptly stopped, Safa looked at him and nodded toward the warehouse, the question in her eyes had him on his feet instantly as she suddenly took off across the alley. He covered her, but the assailant had either been hit or had quit firing to make a run for it, so he followed. Safa was already inside, moving down the hall cautiously in the dark and finally pausing outside a half opened door.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Go."

She went in low and he covered her as she checked the room, while he checked the hall before following her inside.

"Clear," she said sharply. "Dammit! He's gone."

Many of the panes in the window were shattered and pieces of glass covered a dusty metal table underneath. A small amount of light came in from the well lit back of the restaurant and they could just make out the marks of a sniper's tripod in the dust.

"I got blood," Safa said, holding up her fingers. "We hit the bastard."

"Question is...how did he miss me?" Sam asked as he looked out across the alley. "I made a perfect target in that light."

"Maybe he never intended to kill you," she replied. "Maybe they just wanted to scare you."

"All they did was piss me off," Sam grunted.

"Should we look for his blood trail or let the local cops do it?" She asked.

"Mr. Hanna? Are you all right?" Hetty's voice was strident in his ear and he knew she was angry.

"We're both fine, Hetty," Sam replied.

"Nell is checking street and security cams," she said quickly. "We'll make whatever she discovers available to local police. Looks as though you've rattled someone's cage."

"And they aren't too happy about it," he replied.

"Cops are here," Safa announced as she made her way out the door to talk to them.

"Sam? Be very careful from now on," Hetty advised. "You've made someone very nervous and he might try again."

"Looks like our traitor has already panicked," Sam replied.

"That might make him easier to find."

"I hope you're right, Hetty."

"Should I let Mr. Callen know what happened?"

"He's got enough to deal with," Sam replied. "You know how he gets when he worries."

"Yes. He's turned into quite the mother hen, hasn't he?" She laughed.

"Never thought of it that way, but having family has changed him."

"For the better, Mr. Hanna. For the better," she said softly. "Now go introduce Mr. Franklin Goodman of the DOJ to the police. And I'll have the Attorney General light a fire under the Chief of Police. They might actually catch the bastard who did this."

"We wounded him," Sam said. "Maybe he'll bleed to death. Would serve him right."

"Well, he did miss you, Sam."

"No reward for incompetence."

"Either that or he's really, really good and purposely missed," she replied. "Be grateful either way. I know I am, and so will Mr. Callen and Mr. Deeks."

"It's even more personal now, Hetty."

"Yes. I believe our traitor made his first mistake tonight."

"And I'm gonna make him pay for it."

...

...


	14. Chapter 14

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 14_

...

First it was a cool hand on his forehead that he recoiled from, and then the heat radiating off his body that made him so desperate to open his eyes. The touch of the blankets against his overheated skin was painful, and he moaned as he tried to free himself. He felt as if he was suffocating and he panted as his disoriented mind struggled to make sense of where he was and who had him now. His mind was a jumble of memories taut with fear and the urgent, unrelenting need to run. Streaks of pain shot through his body as he rose up on one elbow and tried to get up, to face the danger he suspected all around him. Then he heard the voices and he remembered. There was comfort in them.

"You stay put now, boy," Iris said as she shushed him gently and easily pushed him back down on the bed. "You got a bad fever goin'. Wound's infected so you ain't goin' anywheres for a while."

"Have to go to Baton Rouge," he managed to say, his tongue thick and unwieldy and his lips dry and painfully cracked. "Have to get to FBI. Safe there."

"Xavier already be gone, son," Augustine told him. "You been delirious most of the night and mornin'. You in no shape to be on your feet."

"They'll come for me," he whispered as he moved restlessly on the rumpled bed.

"Then you best let us help ya, Joe," Iris said quietly as she pressed a cold cloth to his flushed red cheeks. "Get 'im some of my tea, Augustine."

"No!" Joe pushed her away and grabbed the edge of the bed, tossing the bedding off as he struggled to sit up.

Iris backed away as he sat on the edge of the bed waiting for his head to clear and his body to stop shivering. He felt cold and hot at the same time, chills rushing through his body like waves, leaving him weak and uncertain.

"Get on your feet, dumbass," he growled breathlessly to himself. "Move or people die."

He forced his body up and finally stood shakily, muttering curse words as he took one step after another, heading for the screen door. They did not try to stop him and he was grateful for that, unsure what he would do if they had, afraid he might hurt them if they tried.

"You want your pants before you go?" Augustine asked, stopping him as he grabbed onto the doorframe to stay on his feet.

He was naked except for his underwear, and he blushed deeply and moaned as he leaned his head into the crook of his arm. Every part of his body ached, but the bright, intense pain pulsing up and down his arm made him nauseous and the room tilted, throwing him off balance. With great effort he pushed through the screen door, afraid if he stopped to put his clothes on he would never be able to get going again. He swiped at the hair hanging lankly in his eyes, beads of sweat catching the light as they sprayed out in front of him. The world outside looked distorted and he realized he had no idea where to go, but he did remember one thing. He needed a gun.

"Do you have a rifle?" He asked, unaware if they heard him or not, just throwing the question out and hoping it would be answered.

"You're not gonna get far the shape you're in, dude," Buford said as he came into his field of vision.

"Gun."

It was all he could manage to say and he saw the boy look behind him and he felt another presence, which sent him reeling.

"It's okay, man. It's just Sebastien," Buford said kindly.

"Should I get him the huntin' rifle, Papa T?" Sebastien asked. "In case they try to kill him?"

"That rifle ain't meant for killin' human beings, boy," Augustine said while Joe swayed unsteadily as they stood around him discussing the situation.

"They are," Joe spoke softly, and he saw the old man jerk as if struck.

"He needs a way to defend himself, Papa T," Buford said stridently. "How would you feel if we let him get killed?"

"He's right, Augustine," Iris said as she came up to join them. "It would be a sin to let that happen."

"And what about the soul of the man he kills?" The old preacher asked. "We weighing souls against one another now? Who deserves to die? This man or another? We ain't God. Life and death ain't our decision to make."

"The men coming for me will kill your whole family and they won't ask God for permission. It's why I have to go. All I'm asking for is a fighting chance...to get back to my own family," Joe whispered, exhausted by the effort it took to try and convince him.

The old man stared at him and Iris stepped up next to her husband and took his hand, patting it gently as he struggled to make a decision. He was a good man, and Joe wasn't sure if he had said enough to convince him. Either way he needed to go, so he watched the preacher wrestle with his conscience and pray, wondering if his mother's God was watching too.

"If you can make it to the shed, I'll let ya have our rifle," Augustine finally said. "Go on and show 'im Buford."

Joe was fairly sure the man didn't think he could make it that far, and when he saw the distance he had to travel, he wasn't sure he could either. But he intended to try. If he didn't, these people might lose their lives and he wouldn't be able to live with that. So he started to walk, following the young man with the encouraging smile. It wasn't long before he began to weave, stumbling forward on pure willpower. He could see that the boy wanted to help him, but his grandfather warned him off, so he continued, his vision fading as his fever raged and pain sapped his remaining strength.

"You made it," Buford said, looking quite pleased as he quickly opened the wooden door.

The airless shed was dim and stuffy, but the lack of light eased his headache. He managed to get to a center post, and leaned heavily against it as he rode out another wave of chills. The boy knelt in front of a wooden chest on the dirt floor, raising the lid and revealing an old Winchester deer rifle like the one his father had taught him to shoot with. It made him smile when the boy handed it to him along with a box of shells.

"You want me to bring you your pants?" Buford asked. "The underbrush around here will tear up your legs, man. You can have one of my t-shirts if ya want."

"I'd appreciate that."

The lanky teenager smiled brilliantly and rushed out, calling to his grandmother as Joe made his way to a workbench and methodically loaded the rifle. He listened to the family's distant voices as they continued to discuss the right and wrong of allowing him to have the gun, but then they all stopped talking at once and he felt a different chill at the base of his neck.

"Who ya got hidin' in the shed, ol' man," someone slowly drawled out.

"Ain't hidin' no one, mister," Augustine boomed out bravely. "Who might you be now?"

"None of your fuckin' business, preacher man," he snarled. "Get 'im out here, or I'll shoot one of them two boys of yours."

Joe went stone cold, cocking the rifle as pure anger filled him. What he had feared was happening and he felt so weak he had trouble making it back to the half opened door. He saw Iris cover her mouth in shock as the man stalked towards them from the edge of the bayou. Sebastien stepped in front of her as Augustine reached out and pushed his youngest grandson behind him. Joe closed his eyes and fought to steady himself, knowing he had no time to waste as the man closed the distance between himself and the Toussaints. He prayed he wouldn't be spotted as he leaned his shoulder against the edge of the doorframe and aimed the rifle. He recognized the bastard. His name was Beau and he had been one of the men laughing as the dogs mauled Oscar to death. He knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill every one of this kind family without blinking an eye. With the man's AR-15 pointed directly at them, if he missed or if he only wounded him, he might get a burst off and he couldn't let that happen.

"You lookin' for me, Beau?" Joe shouted. "No reason to hurt these people."

Beau swung his weapon toward the shed just as Joe fired, his bullet catching the militiaman below the left collarbone, sending him flying backward to the ground. The rifle fell harmlessly by his side as Iris choked out a strangled scream.

"Go back in the house," Joe said as he stumbled out of the shed. "There may be more coming."

The adrenaline kept him on his feet, but his body was rebelling and his eyes began to blur as he walked slowly toward the body on the ground. He felt his strength ebbing and he gripped the rifle tighter, afraid he would drop it as his hands began to shake. The world was suddenly spinning and he stopped, blinking slowly as he saw the stark shock on the faces of the Toussaints.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as the rifle slipped from his hands and his knees buckled.

He collapsed face down in the dirt, his mind barely aware of the hands that touched him or the soft prayers from the family who had taken him in. They gently turned him over and Iris began to fuss over him as he fought to stay conscious.

"You boys get 'im in the house now," Iris instructed.

"No...no don't," he managed to say. "He was just a lookout..."

"Hush now, Joe. You cain't go...ya cain't even stay on your feet," she said kindly.

"He's right. We gotta get him away from here," Augustine said. "We all in danger if he stays."

"We could take 'im to the old church, Papa T," Sebastien suggested.

"Good boy," Augustine said with a soft smile. "You 'membered the stories."

"He looks kind of heavy to carry that far," Buford said, looking doubtful as he stared down at Joe.

"Go get the wheelbarrow, Sebastien," Iris instructed. "Hurry now. I'll bring his pants and some of my quilts. That hidey-hole kept many a runnin' man safe in its time, Joe. Our ancestors hid escapin' slaves there in those evil days."

"Then come on back for the poor dead soul he killed," Augustine told them sadly as he looked resolutely away from Joe. "We'll give 'im a decent Christian burial there in the churchyard. Won't sit right with the Lord if we don't."

Joe had exhausted what energy he'd had and as his adrenalin faded he could only let them do as they wanted, his body shivering with fevered chills. He could hear them talking, but he couldn't respond, his mind close to shutting down, his fever sending him into delirium once again. It was if he were dreaming as he woke to the squeaking sound of a wheel, opening his eyes to the canopy of trees overhead, the flickering light disorienting as they slowly bumped along. When they finally stopped, he turned his head and saw a tiny weather-beaten church, it's paint long gone so that it almost disappeared into the background of the surrounding trees. The steeple leaned slightly, its cross lopsided and the porch was covered in an overgrown web of dead vines. Helped from the wheelbarrow, the two boys draped his arms across their shoulders and he staggered between them to the door.

"No one gonna find ya here, Joe," Iris said quietly as she moved to open the door, which hung loosely on rusted hinges.

It was somewhat cooler inside the empty church, the only light coming from a few of the broken windows not overrun with kudzu. Surprisingly, the pulpit was graced with a mason jar of wild flowers, adding to the feeling of hope and sanctuary the tiny church offered.

"Folks still come here to pray," Iris commented. "But not often, so no need to worry."

Behind the pulpit was a series of five narrow panels framed by worn molding in a soft faded green. Iris moved quickly to the one second from the right and placed both hands on one side and pushed hard. It opened with a loud screech, frightening a host of swallows into frantic flight above their heads. Iris could barely squeeze inside, but she managed, dragging several quilts in with her.

"Let me sit first," Joe murmured.

"When we were little, grandpa told us stories about the Underground Railway, and how this was one of the stops," Buford said as he eased Joe down on the edge of the low platform. "We used to pretend we were runaway slaves and hide back in there. It's a little creepy, but snug, 'cept for the bugs. She'll make it nice as she can for you."

"You boys help me get 'im inside, then go on back and bring up that other fella," Iris said as she stepped up in front of him.

"I'm so sorry," Joe said. "But I couldn't let him hurt you."

"Our Lord is all about forgiveness," Iris said quietly. "I'm no fool, Joe. I know that probably wasn't the first man you ever killed. Takin' a man's life is a horrible burden to carry. I just hope you take it to the Lord when the burden gets too heavy to carry on your own."

"Haven't done that for awhile," he whispered.

"Something ta think about while you're back there in the hidey-hole," she said, patting his cheek gently. "Lots of prayers still floatin' around in this old church. Try and listen to 'em."

"Yes ma'am."

...

They had been slogging through marshland since they'd left the boats, the mud sucking at their boots and slowing their progress. Deeks trailed the group of four militiamen, and Callen hung back to check on him. He knew he was still hurting, but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge his pain, glaring at him whenever he asked how he was doing. He was determined not to appear weak in front of these men and Callen found himself feeling proud of him for making it this far through such rugged terrain. Saint finally signaled for a rest stop, and Deeks leaned heavily against a tree, his hand immediately covering the tender wound in his side.

"Them Creoles' place is only two, maybe three miles up," Rigo said. "Beau's a good tracker, so if Beeler's hangin' around there, he'll find 'im."

The distant sound of a rifle shot got everyone to their feet and Saint swore as he signaled for them to move. Callen could see the sudden fear in Deeks' eyes as he rushed past him, and he grabbed his shoulder to slow him down, but he wrenched free, his intensity a sure warning he didn't appreciate the gesture. The next hour had them all breathing heavily as they pushed through the undergrowth and thick growth of pine trees and crossed minor streams coated in algae. As they waded through a narrow bayou, a host of white egrets rose slowly from the long black trunk of a partially submerged tree, scolding them for the interruption. He was grateful when he finally saw Deeks smile at the beauty of the elegant birds.

"Quiet now," Saint said as he held up a fist to stop them.

Callen followed Deeks as he made his way to the edge of the line of trees and looked out on an open area with a small white house, a garden and shed. An old gray haired black man in coveralls sat in a lawn chair and appeared to be praying, while a small woman herded a tall teenage boy into the house through a faded blue screen door. They saw no one else, and Callen wasn't sure if he was happy about that or sad that they might fail to find Joe. Deeks was practically vibrating next to him, nervously twitching his fingers and moving from foot to foot as if he wanted to charge into the yard.

"No sign of Beau," Rigo growled softly.

"Let's go ask us some questions," Saint said sullenly.

The six of them moved out into the open, and Saint signaled for one man to check the shed. Callen heard the soft slap of the screen door as the old woman came out, her steely gray hair worn short and natural around her wide, dark face. The lanky boy followed her out, and they both looked frightened and Callen didn't blame them. He flinched when Elan came on comms, letting them both know they'd heard the shot and were about a quarter mile away. Roy cautioned them once again not to do anything stupid, telling them they were closing on their position.

"Augustine," the woman called out. "We got visitors."

The old man slowly raised his head from his clasped hands and stared at them, looking at each man in turn before rising to his feet.

"Can I help you folks?" He asked without energy.

"Heard a gunshot awhile ago," Saint said with a soft drawl. "You know anything about that?"

"Don't like guns much, mister," he said.

"That ain't an answer," Rigo snarled.

The man sent to check the shed gave a shout and pushed another kid out, his eyes wide as he stumbled forward, a smear of blood on his lower lip.

"Had a shovel," the militiaman explained when he shoved him into the arms of the old man.

The woman hurried over and lifted the hem of her apron to clean the blood from the young man's face.

"Shame on you," she scolded the militiaman. "You got no cause to hurt my grandson. Buford wouldn't hurt a fly."

"What was he gonna do with that there shovel?" Rigo asked.

"He has chores in the garden," she said quietly.

"You folks wouldn't be hiding a white man in there, now would ya?" Saint asked as he moved toward the man.

"Why would you think that?" Augustine asked.

"Had a man watchin' this place," Saint replied.

Callen saw the old man look warily at his wife, and he sense their fear and knew Joe was here someplace. Deeks looked over at him, his eyes turbulent with the same knowledge and he saw him release the safety on his rifle, which Callen had done before they walked out of the trees.

"Think I'll just have myself a look see," Saint said, brushing past the family, motioning for Rigo to follow as he pulled a pistol from behind his back.

"That ice tea?" Deeks suddenly asked, pointing at the large pitcher on the table next to the lawn chair.

He smiled as he moved between the remaining two militiamen and the huddled family, getting into position to protect them if a firefight broke out. Callen took a step back, watching the house while Deeks was offered a glass of sweet tea by the woman.

"I'm Iris Toussaint, young man," she said, her voice wavering as she handed him the glass. "My husband is Augustine and these two are our grandsons, Buford and Sebastien."

"I'm Jimmy, ma'am," he replied. "Thank ya for the tea. It's hotter than Hades today."

"Ain't nothin' hotter 'n hell, boy," Augustine said. "Should make sure you ain't headin' there."

"Heard you was a preacher," Jimmy replied. "Think I mighta missed the boat on that advice."

"Never too late to come to the Lord, son," Augustine said softly.

Deeks nodded, stealing a look at Callen that convinced him he believed these people had helped Joe. If he was here, there would be a firefight for sure, and he feared they wouldn't be able to keep these people safe or maintain their aliases. He gave Deeks a warning look and received a negligible nod as he set down the glass of tea.

"Ain't nobody in here," Rigo said angrily as he exited the house.

Saint looked pissed as he came out behind him, his face rigid as he stalked toward the family. Callen felt an itch of fear as the man grabbed the old woman by the arm, making her cry out. The teenager named Sebastien tried to stop him, but Saint backhanded him, knocking him to the ground.

"Tell me where Phil Beeler is or I'll break her arm," Saint growled at Augustine.

"Let 'er go, man," Deeks said, stepping forward, his rifle gripped tightly next to his leg. "Ain't right to hurt a little ol' lady."

"Shut the fuck up, Jimmy," Saint ordered. "You ain't in charge here."

"Can't let ya hurt her, man," he said stubbornly.

"Jake? Tell your little brother to back off before I kick his fuckin' ass," the man ordered.

"Why do you think they know anything?" Jake challenged, pulling deeply from the aggressive character of his alias as he held his rifle in front of him. "The shed's been searched. You checked the house. The guy ain't here, man. It's a waste of time foolin' with these folks."

"I knew you two was gonna be trouble," Saint said as he shoved Iris into the arms of her husband, glowering at Jimmy. "You buck against me again, kid, and I'll gut you. Don't care what you did for Guidry."

"I'll be sure and tell 'im you said that, asshole," Jimmy said, his nostrils flaring with antagonism.

"You probably would too, you little shit," Saint said, a look of disgust on his face. "If you're smart, you'll watch your back."

"That's my job," Jake said with a smirk, swinging the barrel of the rifle toward him.

"Hey Saint! Found some tracks," Rigo yelled from the forest behind the house, ending the standoff before it went too far.

Saint spit in the dirt and swore before turning toward Rigo and waving for the rest of them to follow. Callen saw the scared look that flashed in Buford's eyes and the quick way his grandfather pulled him close, whispering something in his ear about faith. Deeks looked to be in a staring contest with the grandmother, who suddenly reached out and gripped his arm.

"There's good in you, boy," she said with a kind smile. "Don't let the Devil win."

"Yes ma'am. I'm no dumbass," saying the safe word and getting an instant reply from Elan and Roy.

"You sure about that, Cuz? Joe said you were a dumbass from the first minute he met you." Elan said easily.

"We're comin' in from the west, boys," Roy said, panting hard in his ear. "Don't go shootin' us now."

"We'd be there sooner if old Roy here could keep up," Elan said, laughing quietly.

"You'd be followin' your tail if you didn't have me along, Mr. Hand," Roy sniped.

Callen and Deeks shook their heads as they jogged to catch up with the militiamen, grateful that backup would be somewhere in front of them. They found themselves on an old dirt track through dense undergrowth and a mixed forest of oak, hickory and sweet gum trees. The canopy offered a respite from the hot sun, but the humidity still took a toll as they followed the winding path. The air was filled with the racket of birds and sudden screeches from something Callen had never heard before, and he caught Deeks recoiling as a snake slithered through the dirt in front of him. The tension was palpable as they moved deeper into the forest, Deeks breathing growing heavier the longer they walked, exhaustion making him stumble occasionally.

"We're looking at an abandoned church just ahead of you," Roy reported, the news making both of them more agitated than they already were.

"Shit! Got a body," Elan said softly.

Deeks stopped and reached for Callen, his face filled with anguish. Callen shot him a hard warning look as he tightly gripped his shoulder.

"Keep moving, kid," he whispered. "See this through."

He nodded wearily and pushed on, gripping and re-gripping his rifle, his hands slippery with sweat. Callen steeled himself, knowing if the body was Joe that Deeks might not be able to control his emotions and he had to be prepared for that.

"It's not Joe," Elan said, his relief plain in the breathlessness of his voice.

Deeks stopped again and bent over with his hands on his knees, spitting out bile before drawing in a couple of deep breaths. Callen rested a hand on his back as the men ahead stopped and Saint turned to look back at them.

"Little brother ain't up for this?" He sneered.

"Just got shot yesterday, you fuck," Callen finding it hard to be civil to the man.

"Don't really fuckin' care. Move it," he ordered coldly. "Ain't got all day."

"I'm good, brother," Deeks said as he straightened up and started walking.

"Get ready to duck, boys," Roy said in their ears. "I'm about ta start shootin' at y'all."

The track took one final twist around the thick trunk of a giant oak and they saw the little church and the dead body lying in front.

"Federal agents," Roy yelled. "Drop your weapons or I'll shoot ya down like that fella on the ground."

Rigo roared out a curse and started firing, only to be shot down by someone behind the church. They all scattered, looking for cover, as the firing intensified. Another militiaman cried out and fell, and Saint was suddenly running with the other man right behind him. He crashed through the undergrowth and Jimmy and Jake joined him as bullets struck the trunks of the trees high above their heads. Deeks suddenly cried out and fell, surprising the hell out of Callen who immediately went back for him, his heart pounding in confusion and fear.

"Leave 'im," Saint yelled.

"He's my brother," Jake shouted and dropped to his knees beside him.

"You're on your own then," he shouted back and quickly disappeared around a bend in the trail.

"They gone?" Deeks whispered.

"What the hell?" Callen asked over the voices shouting in his ear. "I thought you were hit."

"Faking," Deeks replied as he pushed up onto his elbows. "Need to see if Joe is in that church."

"Don't ever do that to me again," Callen said, grinding out the words as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

He helped him up, noting the smear of blood on his t-shirt, but he had a cocky smile on his face and it was hard not to forgive him for scaring the shit out of all of them. Roy passed them as they hurried toward the church, telling them he would follow the militiamen to make sure they were gone. Elan met them by the big oak tree, wrapping Deeks in a relieved hug and pulling Callen in before he could resist.

"I thought I shot you, Cuz," Elan said, gripping Deeks' long hair and trying to pretend he was still angry.

"It was the only way I could think of to stay and look for Joe," he replied.

"If he's here," Callen said.

"If he isn't now, he was," Elan said firmly. "Somebody shot that guy and I'm guessin' it wasn't the preacher or his family."

The three of them turned to stare at the church and then at each other. Deeks wiped his wild hair out of his eyes and started toward the door, pausing before he took a deep breath and pushed it open. The whirring warble of the swallows nesting high in the eves stopped as the three of them walked in, their faces blank and as empty as the room.

"Still think he's here?" Deeks asked sullenly.

"We saw no sign of him on our way here," Elan reasoned. "Your heard that shot. It wasn't fired that long ago."

"He wasn't at the Toussaints," Callen said, watching Deeks as he paced around the room, growing more agitated by the minute.

"Roy checked the perimeter," Elan said, looking at Callen with sad eyes. "He has to be here."

"Joe, you dumbass...call out, dammit!" Deeks yell, finally losing control.

His explosive shout flushed the swallows, which chittered wildly before escaping through a broken window, and then it was quiet. Deeks sank down on the platform and sagged back against the old lectern, his eyes closed and his arms hanging limply between his legs.

"You hear that?" Elan suddenly asked in a whisper.

"What?" Callen asked, looking quizzically at Elan.

"Probably just more birds," Deeks said dejectedly as he ran a hand down his face, and dropped his head to his chest.

"Shut up Cuz and listen," Elan said as he stepped up on the platform.

"Joe?" Deeks yelled at the top of his lungs, startling the big Arapaho and making Callen glare at him.

"That you, brother?"

The words were so weak Callen thought he might have imagined them, but he saw Deeks' eyes widen and Elan suddenly had his ear pressed against one of the back wall panels.

"Joe? We're here Cuz," Elan shouted. "He's behind this wall."

Deeks and Callen scrambled up on the stage and began pounding on the wall panels next to Elan. Finally, Deeks began slamming his shoulder into the panels, one by one until one cracked opened with a screech, revealing a dark crawl space.

"Joe?" He called out softly as he squeezed inside.

Elan followed him in and Callen stayed back at first, leaning his head in and trying to control his emotions. The confined space was stuffy, but in the dim light coming in from shuttered vents near the floor, he could just make out a shape. Joe was lying propped up in the far corner at the end, huddled under a couple of quilts, his face dirty with sweat and marred by cuts and dark bruises. As they got closer they could see tear's streaking down his cheeks, and his eyes were bright with fever.

"Is it really you?" He whispered as Deeks knelt down beside him.

"Yeah, brother. Elan and Callen, too...practically the whole family," Deeks said, pulling his head to his chest, holding him as he shivered uncontrollably and mumbled unintelligible words.

"Let's get him outa here," Elan said, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

The scream was piercing in the enclosed space, shattering Callen's reserved composure. He was suddenly filled with raw anger and fought his way back out into the empty church, gasping for air and control. He was surprised at his own reaction. The release of finding him alive was mixed with a startling need for revenge. Guidry had hunted him, unrelenting in his efforts to track him down, and finally almost running him to ground. If it hadn't been for the Toussaints hiding Joe here, which he had no doubt they did, The Brotherhood would have found him, and then tortured and killed him.

"G? Help us, brother," Deeks called out as they tried to squeeze Joe's slick body out of the narrow opening.

When they finally carried him out and laid him on the floor, Deeks dropped to his knees and lifted him in his arms as if he'd lose him again if he let him go. He had never seen Elan as frazzled as he was, his emotions playing out across his face as he knelt beside him, grasping his hand tightly in both of his.

"He's burning up," Elan said softly. "He's too weak to walk outa here."

"What do we do now, G? Where do we take him?" Deeks asked, expecting him to know what to do. "We can't let the FBI know we've found him. They think he's a traitor."

"What did you say?" Joe croaked, grabbing a fistful of Deeks' t-shirt.

"It's just a mistake, brother," Deeks said, trying to calm him.

"They got the mole, didn't they?" He asked.

"Yeah, they did," Deeks said.

"I'm not a traitor..."

"None of us believed that for a second," Callen said, his voice rising above the others' reassurances.

"Who blew our cover?" He asked, his eyes closing as he began to pant. "Who got Oscar killed? He was my partner, Marty. Guidry tied him up and set the dogs on him...he kept screaming and screaming...I couldn't do anything...I couldn't help him."

"I'm so sorry, brother," Deeks said gently as Joe slumped in his arms.

"He made me watch...all of it...the sonofabitch made me watch..." Joe moaned softly, his voice fading to a whisper. "Oscar was in over his head...Safa shoulda pulled him out...I told her to...I told her. He was a good kid and she got 'im torn to pieces..."

...

...


	15. Chapter 15

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 15_

...

Bearing the weight of his cousin across his shoulders gave him some comfort, but it didn't ease his gnawing fear. The feverish heat from Joe's body was the pressing reminder of the urgent need to get him to a hospital before the infection that gripped him became worse. He had seen it happen as an Army Ranger and knew the agony that followed if it wasn't treated quickly. As he carried him along the winding dirt track, Deeks continually looked over, his expression mirroring the distress they were all dealing with. Their debate over what to do next and where to take him had ended when Roy had poked his head in the door of the church and told him the Toussaints had a boat that could take them north to the outskirts of the tiny town of Butte La Rose. His information that one of the members of the Doucet family had a grocery there and that they were willing to help eased some of the tension they were all feeling.

Joe had slipped into delirium after asking about Di and Little Chris, calling incoherently for George and mumbling about Guidry and Oscar Doucet. Elan was concerned about his injuries and had done a cursory check of his broken ribs, and the many cuts and bruises all over his body, cursing when he saw the rope burns around his wrists. A deep gash ran down the side of his badly swollen knee, but it was his arm that was the greatest worry. It was a wicked looking wound and anger had instantly flared on the faces of his brothers when he'd unwrapped the sweat soaked bloody bandage. Callen had turned away briefly, his jaw clinching in that tell tale sign that he wanted to tear someone's head off. Deeks' face had softened into that vulnerable look that always tore at his own carefully crafted stoicism, cradling Joe's head against his chest and simply holding him. Roy had brought along medical supplies, but there wasn't much that could be done for the ragged wound with the supplies they had except to clean it as best he could and bandage it again. Joe had cried out and writhed in pain as he worked and when he'd looked up at Deeks he'd seen his eyes flooded with tears that barely masked the dark anger behind them.

The others had each offered to carry Joe part of the way, but he refused each time. They had all done so much, and the least he could do was carry the man he called Cuz, a man he'd thought of as a brother since he was twelve years old. Now he could feel the strain on his legs and lower back and let out a weary sigh as they finally walked out into a clearing in front of a small white house. A crazy quilt was laid out on the grass and a small black lady rushed toward him as he lowered Joe down on it.

"Is he dead?" A tall young man behind her asked, looking shocked.

"No," Deeks said quickly.

Elan noticed that the old man in overalls began to pull the two younger boys back, eyeing Callen and Deeks warily.

"This is Xavier Toussaint," Roy hurried to say. "He's the one has the boat."

"Them two are with The Brotherhood," the old man said.

Callen shot a look at Deeks, who shrugged, leaving the decision up to Callen, but it was the small black lady who spoke first.

"You're bleedin' Jimmy," she said. "Are you shot?"

"Old wound ma'am," he replied. "Tore out some stitches."

"I should take a look at it 'for it festers," she said kindly.

"Can't let you do that, Mrs. Toussaint," he relied. "It won't make sense when I go back to The Brotherhood."

"You're going back in?" Elan asked, agitated as he looked back and forth between the two men. "I thought your assignment was to find Joe and get him home. He's finally safe and now you're telling me I have to worry about you two going back in?"

"Sorry, Elan," Deeks said quietly.

"The op isn't over until we find out what they're planning," Callen said.

"Are those Hetty's orders?" Elan was suddenly angry and deeply worried. "Does she even know how truly sick these bastards are? Guidry had a man's tongue cut out, Deeks."

"She knows," Roy said quietly. "It's their job, man."

"Who are you guys?" Buford asked, making them all turn to look at the confused family.

"Probably best you don't know," Callen said tightly. "If those men come back, it might be a good idea not to be here."

"This is our home," Augustine said firmly. "God watches over this family."

"You folks know the Doucets up in town?" Roy asked.

"Went to school with their sons," Xavier said.

"Mind if I ask some of 'em ta come for a visit?" Roy asked. "Maybe stay a bit. Give God a helpin' hand?"

"And why would they do that?" The old man asked.

"Oscar Doucet was this man's partner," Roy said, pointing at Joe. "The Brotherhood killed him. His family offered to help in any way they could."

"You're his brothers..." Xavier said, smiling softly. "Joe told me about you. Elan, Marty and Callen."

"We're federal agents," Callen told them, and all of them seemed to let out a collective breath. "We're trying to bring down Guidry and The Brotherhood."

"I don't like this, G," Deeks said. "They're all in danger. They helped Joe and now they know who we are."

"We only did what was right," Iris said gently. "God brought your brother to us. Couldn't turn him out."

"God was looking out for your brother and I believe he be lookin' out for y'all, too," Augustine said.

"They're gonna need it," Elan said, unable to keep the anger from his voice.

"You two best get goin'," Roy suggested, nodding at Callan and Deeks. "Got any idea how you're gonna explain why you ain't in custody?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something on the way back," Callen replied as Deeks kneeled down next to Joe. "Got any idea how you're gonna deal with the dead bodies back there by the church?"

"Got Hetty on speed dial," he laughed, handing him the phone.

"You been listening, Hetty?" Callen asked, quickly putting the satphone on speaker.

"I have Mr. Callen," she said. "How's Joe doing?"

"Needs a hospital," Deeks snapped.

"We also need some cleanup here," Callen said. "Guidry's down three bastards."

"I'll send in a chopper with a tactical team to deal with the bodies, Mr. Callen," she said. "A show of federal force might just make The Brotherhood a little wary of coming back that way if we do a flyover or two."

"What about Joe?" Deeks asked.

"I think it wise to keep his rescue a secret until this is over," she replied. "I'll have the tactical squad add his name to the list of those killed. It will keep him safe. Nell is working on an alias for him when you check him into the hospital in Lafayette. Elan? Can you stay with him?"

"You don't have to ask," he replied sharply.

"No, of course not," she said soberly. "But, I do have to ask you not to tell George or Diane that he's alive."

"What? No, Hetty! You can't do that to them," Deeks shouted, instantly on his feet.

"Hetty..." Callen looked stunned and Elan thought Deeks was going to go right through the phone.

"Agent Slater is still questioning them regularly," Hetty replied as calmly as ever. "None of us knows if we can trust him and if Diane and George are told Joe is still alive, they won't be able to hide that from him. It could put him in danger all over again if word got out."

"Please don't do this Hetty," Deeks pleaded. "It'll tear them to pieces if they think he's dead and they don't deserve that. There has to be another way."

"Think about this rationally, Mr. Deeks..." She began, but Deeks didn't let her finish.

"Seriously? You expect me to go back undercover knowing two of the few people I care about most in this world have just had their hearts ripped out?" Deeks roared. "I won't do it, Hetty. I'll fly back tonight and tell them myself. Dammit Hetty...don't you think they've been through enough?"

"Tread very carefully, Mr. Deeks," Hetty warned. "Your future is at stake here."

"Deeks..." Callen gripped his shoulder, but he wrenched free, his nostrils flaring with anger and determination.

"You know this is wrong, G," he said stubbornly, ignoring Hetty's threat. "Back me up or get the hell outa my way."

"He's right Callen," Elan said. "We're family and you're a part of it. This isn't about doing your job...it's about family. You have to decide which one is more important to you."

Elan could see the tumult on his face, the strain of the assignment finally getting to both of them. Callen was a strong man, one who had lost himself in his work for most of his life. He believed deeply in what they were doing, and Hetty was a person he believed he could trust and who had always protected him. He had shown his allegiance to her his entire career, but Elan knew he loved Deeks, not that he would ever use that word. Now, that love warred with his loyalty and sense of duty and his inherently dispassionate character.

"Deeks is right, Hetty," Callen finally said with a deep sigh. "There has to be another way to do this."

"Then tell me what that is Mr. Callen," she demanded pointedly, her patience obviously waning. "We have traitors in our midst who will become very suspicious if they catch us in a lie. And that affects you and Mr. Deeks. But...I'm listening."

Hetty had told Elan once that Callen had always been a man who looked at things differently, his mind coming at problems from odd directions. The slight smirk that suddenly crossed his face made him think that this was going to be one of those odd suggestions that no one else had thought of.

"Agent Slater's an arrogant asshole. But he sees himself as being this heroic FBI agent, bringing down terrorists, and saving the world. He's full of himself and ambitious."

"I agree," Hetty replied.

"So, read him in," Callen suggested. "Make him part of our secret task force. Let him know why Joe's not a traitor. Explain what's going on and let him be the one to tell Diane and George that Joe is alive. He'll enjoy the power and he'll keep the secret because it will be a matter of pride."

"And if it backfires?" She asked.

"Have Eric hack him and do everything he can think of to make his miserable life more miserable," he replied.

"That boy has skills, too," Roy laughed.

"I'll invite Agent Slater and Stinson to the boat shed," Hetty finally said, with a hint of resignation. "Does this satisfy you, Mr. Deeks? Do you still work for me?"

"Yeah, no...I'm good," Deeks answered. "Sorry about the yelling."

"I don't take kindly to insubordination, Mr. Deeks," she admonished him. "And I have a very long memory. Now get your smart ass back to The Brotherhood and keep your head down. I doubt if Antoine Guidry will be quite as understanding as I am if you don't show up fairly soon."

Deeks roughed up his tangled mass of long hair and grinned softly at Callen before he pulled him in for a quick brotherly hug. Elan felt nothing but relief as he knelt down to lift Joe in his arms once again, worrying about the time it would take to get him to the hospital he so desperately needed. The two youngest boys hurried to prepare a bed of soft quilts for Joe in the long wooden boat, while Callen and Deeks said their goodbyes to the Toussaints. They shyly allowed the old preacher and his wife to pray for them, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable, but they owed them so they endured it. Elan hugged each man in turn, knowing he probably wouldn't see them until this was over, but making them a promise that he would be there if they needed him. He watched them disappear into the trees as they started their journey back to the camp, and his heart raced wildly with fear for them. Deeks was walking right on the edge of physical collapse, along with the emotional turmoil he was dealing with, but Elan knew how strong he was and held onto the hope that he would be able to overcome both. Callen carried the weight of the mission on his shoulders as he always did and his concern for Deeks just made it harder to bear. Elan had no doubt they had each other's back, but he couldn't shake the memory of Homer Moreau's body lying in the trunk of that car with his tongue cut out. He thought when they found Joe that the nightmare would end, but the characters haunting his dreams had only shifted to the two men he could no longer see and the crazy bastards waiting for them.

"Gotta move, Mr. Hand," Roy remarked, drawing him back to duty.

"Call me Elan, old man," he snapped. "Only Hetty calls me that."

"You ain't got no respect for your elders," Roy said as he followed him to the boat.

"Wrong again," Elan growled, irritated with the man and the whole damn situation.

"Can't tell ya not ta worry, but those two together got their own kinda strength," Roy said quietly as they climb into the boat. "And this here cousin of yours survived out in this swamp alone for almost five days. That ain't easy. I know. He'll make it, Elan. Take my word."

He was grateful for the man's kind words and desperately wanted to believe him. He wanted to feel that same confidence that this makeshift family of his would come out whole on the other side of this snake pit. He felt powerless and he hated it. There was nothing he could do for Callen or for Marty, so he told himself to trust them to take care of one another, and turned his attention back to Joe.

...

"Mr. Hannah? Where are you?" Hetty asked suddenly in his ear.

"Jackson Square. Trying to walk off the barbecue ribs from BB King's Blues Club," he said with a laugh. "What's up?"

"Get yourself to Lafayette," Hetty ordered. "And I suggest for now, that you leave Safa Jordan out of the loop on this."

"What loop are we talking about, Hetty?"

"They found him Sam," she said softly and he heard the relief in her voice. "Joe will be admitted to Lafayette General under the name Joseph Hand. Elan will be with him."

Sam experienced a rush of emotion as a burdensome weight lifted from his shoulders. His thoughts flew to Deeks and Callen, wanting to know the details, but keeping that need under control for the moment.

"How's he doing, Hetty?"

"I'm afraid he's in bad shape, Sam. One of Guidry's dogs apparently got to him and he's fighting a very serious infection from a bite on his arm. None of us know how long ago that happened, but according to Elan, it's quite horrific," she informed him. "But he's alive, although unable to communicate much at this stage. I need you to find out what he knows when they get his fever down enough for him to be coherent."

"Callen and Deeks okay?" He held his breath until she answered that they were fine. "Good...Now why don't you want Safa to go with me to Lafayette? She was Joe's handler. She's worried about him."

"According to Elan, Joe had asked her to pull Oscar Doucet out," she replied carefully. "He places some of the blame for his death on her, so I think it best he not see her."

"Understood," he replied. "Have you told Diane and his father yet?"

"No. The plan is to have him reported dead at the scene along with three members of The Brotherhood," she stated. "That will get the FBI and The Brotherhood both off his back."

"But you're gonna tell his family he's okay, right?"

"Mr. Deeks was quite insistent I do so, Mr. Hanna," she replied.

"He threatened to quit didn't he?" Sam smiled, knowing he had read Deeks' state of mind correctly even before he'd left for this assignment.

"He actually came quite close to being terminated," she said coolly.

"You mean fired, right? Not taken out literally?" Sam asked, his smile fading as he asked.

"Your opinion of me has slipped over the years, Mr. Hanna," she said with a small laugh. "Have you ever known me to take out one of my own operatives?"

"No, but I assume you'd keep that a secret if you had," Sam replied, his smile returning.

"You're quite right. I would," she acknowledged. "Anything else, Mr. Hanna?"

"I assume Callen and Deeks went back under," he replied. "But, one question. Do you want me to let Safa believe Joe Atwood is dead?"

"See what you can get out of Joe first," he said.

"Makes sense, but I think she's one of the good guys, Hetty."

"Let's hope you're right, Sam."

He began jogging back toward his hotel, his mind trying to fill in the blanks of what had happened. He was usually a patient man, but he now felt anxious to get as many details as he could, wondering if Safa was as trustworthy as he'd come to believe. She had appeared genuinely worried about Joe Atwood, and it seemed cruel to keep her in the dark about his rescue, but then again she was a spy and a good one. If she had been the one who'd betrayed Joe and his partner, he would be in danger if she found out where he was. Sam knew he wouldn't be safe either. She already knew they had agents inside The Brotherhood, and he silently cursed himself for revealing that information. He was torn between wanting to keep her in his sites for fear she would turn on his team and wanting to believe that the woman who had charged across that alley last night was someone he could count on to keep their secrets and have his back.

He had switched hotels after being attacked, as well as rental cars, but he still felt exposed, watching for tails and checking out anyone that looked suspicious as he made his way into the hotel garage. Slipping in behind the wheel of his new nondescript sedan, he got on comms to Roy to get instructions on the fastest way to get to Lafayette.

"You missed some action this mornin', buddy," Roy's soft drawl reminding him he wasn't totally alone.

"Everybody okay?" He asked as he pulled out of the garage and headed through town.

"So far," he replied. "I'm a little worried about your two brothers. They'll have a helluva lot of explaining to do when they get back to camp."

"They can handle it," Sam replied, even though he felt a twinge of doubt as he said it. "Sounds like things got heated."

"You talked to Hetty," Roy stated, sounding unusually reserved. "Deeks challenged her orders. Shocked the hell outa me. Ain't seen many that weren't cut off at the knees for doin' that."

"I think she secretly has a soft spot for him...Callen too," he replied with a gentle smile.

"Stood up for his family. I admire that."

"You in Lafayette?" Sam asked as he hit the freeway and stomped on the gas.

"Home...monitoring the Hale brothers."

"You sound worried."

"Deeks followed his heart instead of usin' his head," Roy growled. "He should have followed those two militiamen we spooked back to camp...let us deal with finding Joe Atwood. Instead, he faked an injury so he could look for his brother. It was a dumb move."

"Joe always did call him a dumbass," Sam said. "But I'm not surprised. Those two went through hell together. Bonded a long time ago. You remember what that's like. Brothers in arms."

"Yeah, I remember," he replied quietly. "Don't mean it can't get one of 'im killed."

They both became silent after that until Sam asked for details about the rescue, which Roy reported as only an ex Seal can do. He had nothing but good things to say about Elan, and wondered why Hetty hadn't recruited him. They talked easily, filling the two hour drive with occasional reminiscences of their time in service and sharing stories about family. By the time he arrived in the hospital parking lot, Sam knew more than he wanted to about the genealogical history of Roy's family line all the way back to France, including their forays in the Crusades. The man could talk.

"One more thing," Roy said as Sam headed into the hospital. "Might be a few Doucets hangin' around when ya get in there. Make sure they know you're a friend...otherwise things could get a little dicey. They ain't gonna let anything else happen to Joe Atwood without a fight."

Sam signed off and checked at the reception desk for the room number for a man named Joseph Hand. When he got on the elevator, he was joined by two well-built men in jeans and t-shirts, both wearing ball caps with Ragin' Cajuns insignias. The one with the heavy dark beard was texting on his cell phone, while the other leaned nonchalantly against the sidewall of the elevator and stared at him, his arms crossed over his barrel chest. When the door opened three very serious men were waiting for him.

"I'm really hoping you're the Doucets," Sam said, standing to his full height and puffing out his chest. "I'm still digesting those barbecue ribs I had for lunch, so I'm not too interesting in kickin' anyone's ass right now, but I will if I have to."

"You Sam?" A big man with a black mustache asked.

"Who's askin'?"

"Gus Doucet."

"Sam Hanna. How many more of you are there?"

"Here? Or scattered all over da parish?" Gus asked as he shook Sam's hand.

"Here in the hospital," Sam asked with a big smile as they parted to let him off the elevator.

"Us five...plus more in da waitin' room and a few you won't never see," he answered. "We got lots of uncles and cousins. Ain't nobody gonna hurt that boy no more."

"How's he doing?"

"Better once dey give 'im somethin' for da pain," Gus said solemnly. "Ragin' wid fever when we first pick 'im up in Butte la Rose. Opened his eyes and saw me...started cryin' and sayin' how sorry he was...damn near got da bunch of us cryin' all over again. Oscar was da baby of da family. Thought da world of Joe. Brought 'im over for mama's étouffée when dey first hooked up. Real down ta earth kinda guy. We all like 'im. It was tough seein' 'im so beat down and blamin' hisself for what happened."

"We all know who's to blame," Sam said quietly as he rounded a corner to see Elan sitting in a blue plastic chair with his head down, holding a paper cup of coffee between his knees.

"Found a friend of yours," Gus called out.

Elan was one of the toughest and strongest men Sam knew, but not today. He looked sad and exhausted and definitely frustrated as he stood to greet him. His black chinos were caked with dried mud from the knees down and he wore a khaki tank top dotted with bloodstains, and his big hand trembled as he reached out to shake his hand.

"How bad?" Sam asked softly.

"He's in surgery," he replied with little energy. "ER doc said he has severe sepsis. They were afraid he might go into septic shock, so they got him on oxygen and shot him full of antibiotics and painkillers and sent him straight up to surgery. He could die, Sam. After all this...he could still die."

"Hey...this is Joe we're talking about," Sam said gently, gripping his shoulder. "He's tough."

"Yeah...I know."

Elan sank back down in the hard plastic chair and Sam realized the Doucet men had loosely surrounded them, allowing none of the people passing even close. He counted eleven men of different ages, some with beards, a few with cowboy hats and most with ball caps. A couple of the older men were talking softly to one another, but their eyes still scanned whoever walked by. Sam decided he wouldn't want to tangle with any one of them, knowing it wouldn't be a single man he would end up fighting, but all of them.

"Some family huh?" Elan murmured. "Shocked the hell outa me when we pulled up to the levee and saw seven men waiting. All armed too. Glad Roy gave me a heads up what to expect or I might have started shooting."

"Hope Roy let Callen and Deeks know he has a protective detail," Sam said.

"They know."

"You got a place to stay?" Sam asked. "Joe might be here awhile. I can get you a hotel room for as long as you need."

"Ain't no need for that," Gus cut in. "Sister's got a condo close by. Kinda a modern warehouse lookin' place, but she offered Elan one of her extra rooms. Cain't argue wid her, so don't even try."

"Really, Gus. I can sleep here in the waiting room," Elan said.

"You ain't met Zoe yet," Gus smiled for the first time. "That ain't happenin'. No one in our family messes wid her. 'Specially after what happened ta Oscar. She's the only girl. Just do what she tells ya and you'll be fine."

"Sounds like Kensi," Sam said, finally getting a brief smile out of Elan.

"Mr. Hand?" An officious voice called out.

Elan stood quickly and the Doucets moved aside to allow the surgeon to approach.

"How is he?" His voice was breathless and Sam took a step closer, surprised at how tentative he sounded.

"The wound in his arm was badly infected and it went into his bloodstream. He was quite close to going into septic shock when he was admitted, and the infection is extremely severe. Once I got the wound cleaned I was able to assess the damage..." he said and then hesitated before continuing. "He has a lot of muscle and tendon damage, and I'm sorry, but he might not regain full use of that arm."

Elan took a step back and said something in Arapaho, making the doctor look over at him as if he could translate.

"What else?" Sam asked, knowing he wasn't finished.

"His fever's still running too high and we're working to get his blood pressure up. Right now he needs help breathing so we have him on a ventilator. I have to be honest, Mr. Hand. He's critical."

"Is he dying?" Elan asked.

"We're monitoring his vital organs, Mr. Hand, and doing everything we can to help him pull out of this," the doctor said gently. "I can see he went through hell, so he must be a fighter. Remember that. Once he's out of recovery, we'll get him set up in ICU, but you won't be able to see him until later tonight. I'll have a nurse come find you."

Elan looked stunned and Sam found it hard to breathe, wishing he could talk to Callen, but knew he couldn't risk telling him or Deeks how bad Joe's condition was. Deeks especially would have a hard time staying undercover if he found out. The Doucets closed in around them when the surgeon left, but Elan suddenly let his anger out and pushed through them, walking down the hall muttering in Arapaho, before finally stopping at a window to stare blankly outside.

"We know that feelin'," Gus said softly, and the men around him nodded silently. "He wants ta beat on somebody right now. Know of anything might help 'im blow off some of dat anger?"

"He's from Wyoming," Sam explained. "Works with his uncle breeding and raising horses. Not sure there's anything in a city that will help much, unless you know of a gym with a punching bag."

"That how you let off steam?" Gus asked.

"Yeah...work the heavy bag when things get hard," he replied as he started toward Elan.

The Doucets began to talk to each other in Cajun and the sound of their quiet voices was soothing. Families were a comfort in times like these, but Elan was alone with no one but him and strangers to talk to. He was a reticent man, but he was hurting right now and Sam wasn't sure exactly what to say that might help him. Stopping beside him, he pulled his phone and handed it to Elan.

"Roy told me you lost your cell crossing a bayou," Sam said. "Don't think George has been told about Joe yet, so you can't call him, but you need to talk to someone who's family."

"Uncle Jim," Elan breathed out, giving him a grateful smile as he took the phone.

Sam walked back toward the Doucet family, giving Elan his privacy. Gus approached him with one of the older men, who doffed his cowboy hat and looked down the hall at Elan.

"This is my uncle, Louie Doucet," Gus said. "Has an idea."

"Got a friend runs some horses over at Evangeline Downs," the old man squinted up at him through thick glasses as he spoke. "Thought Elan might like to work out a couple of 'em. No races scheduled, so he can take all the time he needs."

"Joe told us stories about Elan on a horse," Gus said. "Think it might do us all a world a good ta see 'im ride."

"Did I hear something about horses?" Elan asked as he walked up behind him.

"Like ta ride a thoroughbred, son?" Louie Doucet asked.

"Is he serious?"

"Uncle Louie cain't tell a joke worth shit," Gus laughed. "He's always serious."

"Pay no attention to that one, son," Louie Doucet countered. "He come out butt first, so he talks outa his ass."

Louie slapped Elan on the back and silently guided him through the crowd of family members, who dutifully fell in behind him except for three men who stayed behind. Sam was starting to like this family. They operated like a fine tuned military unit, leaving nothing to chance as they watched over Joe Atwood as if he were one of their own. Elan seemed to know he could trust them and it must have eased his mind, laughing suddenly with the family at something Louie Doucet said. The laughter was brief for all of them though and the short drive north was a quiet affair, the line of pickup trucks eventually pulling through a chain link fence behind the horse barns.

Louie seemed to know just about everyone he passed, but it was the small, bald man who gave him a shout out in Cajun who brought them all to a halt. He had a wide, thin smile and the kind of swagger that Sam recognized as the real deal. He and Louie talked briefly, and he occasionally glanced at Elan, who stood respectively silent.

"My name's Calvin Borel. Louie here says ya got a need ta ride."

"It's an honor to meet you, sir. Saw you win the Kentucky Derby in '09. I'm Elan Hand."

"What kinda horses you breed?" Borel asked.

"My uncle Jim Littleshield and I breed quarter horses, paints and Appaloosas," Elan said quietly.

"I help out a trainer here once in awhile," Borel said. "Got one big ol' stallion that ain't got no sense. Needs tough hands, a sensitive feel and someone as stubborn as he is. That sound like you?"

"Yes sir."

"He always this polite, Louie?"

"Only when he likes you," Sam interjected.

"Well dis here horse he gonna be ridin' ain't got a polite bone in his big ol' body," Borel laughed. "You up for that?"

"I'm lookin' forward to it," Elan said, dark sadness radiating off him.

The small man walked them down between barns in the late afternoon heat, the physical contrast between the two men strangely compelling. Both knew horses and both loved them, the retired jockey somehow understanding the big Arapaho's deep need. A couple of grooms were walking a big black stallion round and around in a circle as if trying to wear him out. The animal tried to bite one and kicked at the other and Sam decided it was best to stay as far away as he could from the mean looking animal. Elan simply watched.

Finally taking a couple of steps toward the animal, the stallion turned to face him. He began speaking Arapaho to the horse, who pricked its ears at the unusual sound. Snorting, the big stallion began pawing the ground, its eyes constantly on Elan as he came closer, until he finally took the halter rope from one of the grooms. Continuing to talk softly to the animal, he ran his hand over its glistening shoulder and up its neck, the animal quivering at his touch.

The horse was bareback, and Elan just shook his head when the groom offered to saddle him. The horse suddenly nipped at Elan's shoulder, and he laughed, then sounded as if he were scolding the animal, but showed no fear. He said a couple of sharp words in Arapaho, getting its attention as he calmly grabbed a handful of mane and leaped onto its back. The horse actually looked surprised and began backing up, but Elan took the reins and turned him toward the track, his heels nudging his ribs to get him moving. One of the grooms ran ahead to open the gate. Elan bent low over the horse's neck and continued to talk to the stallion, the animal's eyes now wide as it danced sideways toward the dark dirt of the track. When they passed the rail, Elan yelled and kicked the horse hard, his hands entwined in the mane as the horse jumped forward, kicking out its back legs before taking off at a full out gallop. Calvin Borel whooped as the horse exploded down the track, the dark dirt flying out behind and Elan lying low along its neck, moving as one with the horse.

This was no slow workout, it was a breakneck race. Others gathered along the rail as horse and rider hit the backstretch, some with stopwatches poised as the horse raced around the far turn. Someone with binoculars swore the jockey was riding bareback, but others disputed it until Borel told them he was. When the stallion pounded onto the homestretch, the two grooms were beating the railing, urging him on. Elan swept past them, his long hair flaring out behind him as he urged the stallion to keep going. The second lap was slower, but the pace was steady and by the time Elan pulled the stallion up in front of them they were both sweating, but inordinately calm. Elan slid from the horses back and leaned against the animal's neck, whispering in Arapaho as tears streaked his face. Before Sam could get to him, he dropped to the ground and sat cross-legged in the dirt as the grooms led the weary horse away.

"Elan? You okay, man?" Sam asked as the Doucets formed a protective line behind them and warned everyone away.

When he lifted his head, Sam's breath caught in his throat. He had seen that look on Elan's face before after a man had attacked his family. It was coldly calm and chilling in its intensity.

"I can't lose any of them, Sam," he said, his voice low and rough, his eyes black and his jaw tight. "If those bastards hurt Deeks or Callen, I'll go in on my own and get them out. If Joe dies, I'll kill every member of The Brotherhood I can get to, starting with Guidry. They fucked with my brothers, Sam. I won't let that pass."

...

...


	16. Chapter 16

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 16_

...

Time passed slowly as they tried to retrace the way back, and the heart beating sound of two choppers flying low circles over the canopy of trees sent them instinctively seeking cover. Not trusting they would be viewed as friendlies if spotted, they burrowed into the undergrowth next to a massive tree and Deeks was thankful for the rest. The wound in his side felt like it was on fire and was still seeping blood, and he could see the concern on Callen's face as he continually checked on him.

The sky was melting into deep orange and a transparent moon hung low over the trees. It would be dark soon and they were soaked with sweat, surrounded by humming mosquitos and pretty much lost.

"Got any idea which way we should go?" Deeks asked as he leaned his head wearily back against the trunk of the tree.

"Not a clue," Callen replied, sounding tired and definitely irritated.

"Chasin' your tails, fellas?" Roy's voice snapping them out of their doldrums. "Y'all are just babes in the woods for real, ain'tcha?"

"Shut up," they replied in unison.

"Copy that, gentlemen," he replied. "Just heard from Elan. Your brother's in surgery and he said it looks like the entire Doucet clan showed up to offer protection."

"Do George and Diane know he's safe now?" Deeks asked.

"Not yet, but Hetty'll make sure they do. You can trust 'er, Deeks. You know that," he replied.

"I think he's still a little pissed at her," Callen said with an amused smirk.

"Know the feeling kid, but she'll keep 'er word." Roy said quietly. "Now, you two California boys ready to quit walkin' in circles and get back to business?"

"You can really be obnoxious sometimes," Deeks murmured.

"Just part of my charm, boy," he laughed. "I charted your route outa camp from the trackin' spray and right now you're about half a klick south of the trail and about five klicks away from camp."

"Be dark by the time we get back," Deeks moaned as Callen pulled him to his feet.

"Think Saint left one of the boats?"

"Maybe. It'll cut our time in half if he did."

"I'll kick his ass if he didn't," Callen grumbled.

"Why don't we just shoot the sonofabitch?" Deeks said with a cocky smile.

"You boys sound a mite tetchy right now," Roy said. "Don't go doin' nothin' stupid now."

"He left us, remember?" Deeks griped.

"Cause you faked an injury that coulda made that firefight a whole lot worse," Roy snapped. "That was a mistake, boy."

"Not to me it wasn't," he replied, stalking off through the heavy growth.

"I think you've said enough, Roy," Callen said, a distinct warning in his tone.

They stayed off comms except for intermittent instructions from Roy about their route. Once they hit the familiar trail, they knew what they'd be facing and simply put their heads down and slogged across the marshy ground and waded through several streams, watching for alligators and cottonmouths. They took turns taking lead as the track narrowed, and Callen had just taken point when he suddenly disappeared in a deep hole of algae covered water. Deeks threw himself forward, reaching out for him as he struggled to find his footing. By the time he hauled him out he was coughing badly and spitting out the foul smelling water.

"You boys okay?" Roy asked loudly.

"Nothing a hot shower and entire bar of perfumed soap wouldn't cure," Callen choked out.

"Don't think that's in your future, brother," Deeks said. "You scared the shit outa me."

"Yeah? Think how I felt," Callen said before spitting out a wad of algae. "Least I kept my head above water so I can still hear Roy's charming comments. I'm just lucky there weren't any snakes."

"You and Indiana Jones got the same phobia," Roy laughed.

"Yeah...all he needs is the hat," Deeks replied.

"Let's get going movie fans, I think I got algae up my ass," Callen said as he headed down the trail.

"That there is just too much information," Roy replied.

It wasn't the last time they stumbled or fell as the light faded into indigo, the rhythmic beat of crickets and the deep hollow sound of frogs pulsing around them. Both were breathing heavily in the thick, humid air by the time they reached the edge of the bayou they had come up on. After some searching, they found one of the boats tied to the root of a bald cypress. Callen insisted that Deeks try and get some rest and he laid down in the bottom of the boat and promptly fell asleep to the drone of the engine.

Angry shouts and the sudden rocking of the boat woke him. Rough hands grabbed at him and he came fully awake fighting. Dragged out and into the water, his head was pushed under and held there, the muddy water filling his mouth and nostrils as he struggled to get free. Yanked up by many hands, he gasped for air and could hear Callen yelling his name. The brilliant light of a propane lantern held in front of his face made it impossible for him to see anybody as angry shouts in Cajun surrounded him. His hands were tied tightly behind his back and before he could say anything a gag was forced into his mouth, the thick cloth tasting of mud. A sudden kick in the stomach left him sagging as the men dragged him through the underbrush to the camp. Saint was standing bare-chested in the middle of one of the platforms next to a burn barrel, the flames licking upward toward the black sky. Callen was gagged and being tied to one of the corner posts and Deeks felt a stab of fear when he saw he wasn't moving. He was muddy and wet and blood streaked down the side of his face.

"Ain't you supposed to be dead, Jimmy?" Saint roared, taking a deep swallow from the bottle of liquor in his hand. "Git 'im on up here, boys. Got some serious business with this one."

He struggled against the three men as they dragged him up on the platform and shoved him up against the post across from Callen, his mind flashing with sudden, terrifying memories. His elbows were pulled behind the post and tied together, the rest of the rope looped around his neck and yanked tight. Saint was well on his way to being drunk and laughed as he came to stand in front of him.

"Coulda swore those Feds shot ya," his words slurring as he patted his cheek. "You smell like shit, boy. And I'm thinking maybe you are a shit. Maybe a shit that made hisself a deal with the Feds."

Deeks screamed out a muffled curse and fought against the ropes, but Saint reached up and pulled the rope around his neck tighter until he was close to passing out. He slumped against the post as Saint lifted his t-shirt and stared at the bloody wound in his side, a third of the stitches ripped out.

"Don't see no other gunshot wounds. So what happened, boy? Them Feds offer you a deal to rat us out?" He growled. "You wired, Jimmy?"

The slap was hard and the smell of booze nauseating in the warm air, and he began to wonder if the man might not be a little bit crazy. He continued to ask him questions he wasn't able to answer with a gag in his mouth, the slaps coming after each question until his head was swimming. When Saint pulled a hunting knife from behind his back, he closed his eyes and waited for the pain. The blade was smooth and warm against his cheek and he could smell the man's breath next to his ear.

"I don't trust you, Jimmy boy," he whispered. "Them Feds coulda broke your sweet little ass easy, I'm thinkin'. So let's just see if you're wearin' a wire."

Saint cut away his t-shirt, taking his time and seeming to enjoy it. The blade was sharp and he hissed as it nicked his collarbone, and Saint laughed. The man rubbed his callused thumb across the cut and then licked the blood from his finger. Taking the last swig from the bottle of whiskey, he threw it aside and then pressed his hand into his chest, placing the tip of the knife in the hollow of his throat. His thumb began to brush roughly back and forth over his nipple, and he watched the man's eyes glaze over as he did it, feeling sick and chilled by the man's actions.

"You ever been fucked by a real man, boy?" He asked. "Cause unless you do what I say, when Guidry gets here in the mornin' I'm gonna tell 'im them Feds fucked you over to their side, then me and the boys will fuck you for real."

The feel of the man's hands on him had him fighting the dark panic rising in his gut, and he lashed out, kicking out at the man, his anger roaring to life as memories flooded his mind. The sharp sliver of pain shocked him as the knife cut across the top of his shoulder and he fought to catch his breath.

"I like a fighter," the man said as he pressed the knife against his throat. "But you keep tryin' ta kick me, I'll cut your brother over there to shreds and then I'll cut his dick off."

Deeks froze, his eyes drawn to Callen as he hung limply against the post. He didn't doubt the man and it scared him badly, and he became still, knowing his actions would have consequences for his brother. He closed his eyes as Saint unbuckled his belt and then slowly unzipped his pants, a low guttural laugh leaving him shivering. He wanted to scream, but it would do no good and he stared at Callen as the man pulled his jeans down past his hips, letting them drop around his ankles. The knife skimmed against his skin as his underwear was cut away, and he felt warm tears on his cheeks as he tried not to think of the old terrors in his past.

"You remember what I told you, Jimmy?" Saint whispered against his lips, one hand gripping his hair as his fist and knife pressed low on his groin. "You don't tell Guidry nothin' about that firefight. You hear me? Nothin'. I'll do the talkin'. Otherwise, your big brother gonna be in a whole lot a pain."

He trembled as Saint slid the flat of the blade along the inside of his thigh, up and down as he stared into his eyes, his tongue wetting his lips as he pressed his thumb down hard into his nipple. He squirmed under his rough touch, his breathing hitching and his muscles taut as the knife continued to move between his legs. The bastard was one sick sonofabitch, but he was scared of Guidry and Deeks knew it was his weakness. He swallowed hard when the man pushed away from him, trailing his hand down to his abdomen and stood staring at his body. Deeks looked over at Callen and saw he was regaining consciousness and he felt fear rise in his throat as his brother's head came up. He jerked against the ropes and looked wildly over at him, his eyes widening as he took in the scene.

"Well now...look who's awake," Saint laughed. "Maybe he's the one they wired...huh little brother?"

Deeks madly fought against his bonds, and Saint backhanded him, catching him across the eye. He heard Callen's muffled shout and looked quickly over at him, seeing nothing but raw rage in his eyes. Saint walked slowly across the platform to the burn barrel, resting the blade of the knife on the edge and watching as the flames licked at it.

"I warned you, boy," Saint said, his laugh low and guttural. "Now you watch real close. Pay attention to your big brother's screams. Don't want ya to forget our little deal."

Deeks screamed into the gag as Saint lifted the heated knife and moved toward Callen, whose eyes had widened the closer the man got. The madman slammed his hand into Callen's throat and pressed the hot blade against his bare arm, and Deeks couldn't watch, closing his eyes as he listened to his brother's muted screams. He could no longer hear Roy because he'd lost his comm feed when they shoved his head under water, but he prayed he was talking to Callen now, distracting him as much as possible from the pain. When he finally looked at him, he was staring back, his eyes red, but amazingly defiant. Saint cut away Callen's wet clothes, but he did it quickly and roughly, searching for the wire he believed was there. When he found nothing he cursed and struck him again and again, leaving him sagging naked against the post when he was finished. The bastard leaned over him, talking quietly as he gripped his jaw and forced his head back, and even though he couldn't hear what he was saying, Deeks assumed it was the same threat he'd made to him. He knew the man was afraid Guidry would find out he'd run away from the Feds, and Callen would realize the same thing and would use it against him if he got the chance. At least he hoped one of them would be able to.

"You boys enjoy the evenin' now," Saint said with a smile. "Guidry gonna set ya straight first light."

Men who had been silently drinking and watching, slowly emerged from the shadows, stepping up on the platform to join him. Someone handed Saint another fifth of whiskey and he laughed and took a long drink as his eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. Deeks fought the urge to vomit, his muscles in knots and quivering as he watched the men get drunk, laughing and talking as the night deepened. He took courage from the rage that still burned in Callen's eyes whenever he looked at him. They had no communication without the comms, and he found he missed Roy's irreverent attitude and snarky comments.

It became a hellish night as the men drank themselves past the point of control. It was all so familiar. His father could have been any one of these men and he locked eyes with Callen to try and stave off the painful memories. When he lost sight of him behind the milling militiamen, he felt himself begin to panic, desperately needing to keep that connection that had become such a mainstay for him. He thought of him more as family than he ever had his father and he struggled to maintain eye contact as three drunken men surrounded him. He ignored the taunts and laughter, and endured their brutality as they egged each other on, their vicious punches adding bruises to his sore ribs and abdomen, sucking his breath away. He screamed when one man hit the wound in his side, leaving him barely conscious. When someone ran their hand through his hair he groaned as the man lifted his head, and he forced his eyes to open as Saint breathed the foul smell of whiskey into his face.

"Havin' fun yet, boy?" Saint slurred out the words with a sick smile as he patted his cheek. "Your brother's a tough sonofabitch. Maybe we oughta test that PLX and C-4 on him. Ever seen what that stuff can do to the human body, Jimmy boy?"

He went ice cold as he listened to the man describe the horrible results even a small amount of that combination of explosives could produce, his heart pounding as his rage mounted.

"Don't think y'all gonna be alive to see our first strike for freedom," he crowed. "Too bad, boy. That there federal courthouse in Baton Rouge is gonna light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Shame you and your big brother is gonna miss it."

His breath caught at hearing the information they had all been working to discover. He silently cursed losing his comm link with Roy, a feeling of despondency settling deep within him as the man continued to spew out venom about the government. If he died, the information would die with him and he tried desperately to think of any way he could turn the tables on the vile man in front of him. What would happen when Guidry arrived he had no idea, but the pictures of Oscar Doucet's body flooded his mind and he was finding it hard to breathe. He struggled to see Callen, needing to feel that bond they had and he began to struggle against the ropes. Saint just laughed and hit him hard in the chest, leaving him breathless while the man yelled to the others in Cajun and jumped down from the platform, all of them finally leaving them in peace.

His legs would no longer support him, the pain in his arms excruciating as he slumped down the post, tightening the rope around his neck. It was his anger that made him force himself back up before he hung himself and he looked to see if Callen was conscious. The two brothers stared at each other and although his eyes were heavy with exhaustion, he could see Callen's expression soften in the dimming light as the fire burned down. The caring he saw there bolstered his resolve to remain strong. As distant laughter floated out of the shadows, fatigue dragged at him and he finally let his eyes close. He really didn't sleep, the tightening rope around his neck waking him if he slumped too low. Callen's head was down, but he doubted he was sleeping either. All he could do was wait for dawn and try and find a way to let Roy know what The Brotherhood was planning. Then his thoughts drifted, first to Joe and George and then to Kensi. He pictured her with her hair down and smiling, savoring his memories of their time together. They loved each other, their differences unimportant now. Her smile lingered in his thoughts as he stared up at the far-flung dusting of stars.

...

...

None of them were in the mood to talk. There was no news, so there was nothing to be said, making each day seem longer than the one before. Tension ebbed and flowed between the three of them as the days passed, all of them putting on a pleasant, but false demeanor whenever Michelle came over with pizza or a movie. George didn't believe she was fooled. Little Chris seemed to sense the underlying strain and occasionally would suddenly start crying for no reason anyone could see. Reminiscences, once so easy to recount, had now become too painful as hope slowly began to fade. Kensi was irritable most days, refusing earlier to take her pain medication until Diane had yelled at her, leaving them both with teary eyes and overly explained apologies. Tonight, George had found it hard to spend time with his grandson, the little boy's rambunctiousness and endearing smile reminding him too much of Joe when he was that age. It left him feeling guilty and melancholy, and fighting to keep his hopes up. Diane had put him to bed early, which left the three of them trying to find anything that would fill the silence of the long evening.

"Where did you and Michelle go today?" Kensi finally asked as she licked her spoon clean of ice cream.

Diane seemed startled by the question, and nervously smoothed the pages of the book she'd been reading, or at least trying to read. George was fairly sure she had been reading the same page for the last half hour. He had caught her crying in the kitchen earlier as she put together some leftovers for dinner, but hadn't thought to ask her why, simply assuming the waiting had become too difficult to handle.

"Did she say something we should know about?" George asked, her nervousness making him think she was hiding something.

"No, no...nothing," she mumbled. "She hasn't even heard from Sam."

"Of course not. It's a dark op," Kensi said, sounding irritated as if Diane should know that.

"Well excuse me for not being a super agent like you," Diane snapped, getting up and walking quickly into the kitchen.

Kensi looked as if she'd been slapped, totally unaware of how she'd sounded, and George could see how sorry she was.

"Shit," She spit out as she reached down to pick up her crutches. "I didn't mean to upset her."

"She knows that," George said, rising to help her up. "All of us have been a little short tempered lately."

"There's no way to relieve the stress," she replied, hobbling unsteadily toward the kitchen. "I can't work out, I can't go to the firing range and shoot a damn paper target to shreds...dammit, George. I'm just not used to sitting around and waiting. I can't do anything to help them and it's killing me."

"No it's not. You're alive Kensi...and...and Joe is probably lying dead somewhere..." Di cried out, her anguish shaking both of them.

George wrapped her in a hug and whispered encouragement to her as she wept, the thin hold she'd had on her emotions finally crumbling. He'd been impressed with her strength this past week, especially whenever that annoying FBI agent showed up to pester her and ask more unanswerable questions. He hoped he didn't show up tonight, because they were all so on edge he wasn't sure what might happen or what any of them might say, and that wouldn't help Joe's situation at all.

"Maybe we could all use a drink," Kensi said, as she pulled open the door to the liquor cabinet.

"You're on pain meds, Kensi," George reminded her.

"One tiny nip can't hurt," she replied. "Come on Di. The least I can do is pour you a drink after snapping at you like that."

"I can't," Diane replied, wiping at her eyes as she pulled free of George.

"Please? I'm trying to apologize," Kensi said, looking hurt as her own eyes filled with tears.

"I know...but I can't..." Di said haltingly, weeping softly. "I'm pregnant."

"Oh my God," Kensi said, finally smiling.

Diane seemed to shrink from her enthusiasm, sadly dropping her head as she whispered her fear. "What if she never gets to meet her daddy?"

"It's a girl?" George asked, stunned by the revelation and the intense feeling of sorrow he felt for his missing son.

"We're hoping for one, but I won't know for a while," she said as Kensi pulled her into a hug. "Not that it matters...It's just that Joe talked about all the things he wanted to do if we had a little girl...and now..."

George was finding it hard to say anything, his mind flashing back to the early days of his marriage. He remembered his wife's excited smile when she'd told him she was pregnant the second time. She had so badly wanted a girl, talking about tea parties and dolls and sharing her dreams for her little girl's future. When she had given birth, he had seen the momentary hint of sadness on her face when the doctor had told her it was a boy, but when he had gently laid her son on her chest, she seemed to melt, her love for Joe overwhelming in that very instant. Josie never spoke of tea parties and dolls again, and that still made him sad. Now he wondered if her deep desire had somehow been transferred to her son.

"Did he know?" George finally asked.

"No," her gentle whisper cutting into his heart.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted their attempt to comfort her, and George felt numb as he walked out to answer it. Raw anger flared when he saw Agent Slater standing there in the dull glow of the porch light.

"Not tonight, Slater," he said before the man could speak, slowly closing the door in his face.

"Please, Mr. Atwood," he said, his tone so very different that George froze in fear as the man pushed his way inside.

He heard Kensi ask who it was and he turned to see Diane staring at the man who had made it his mission to torment her.

"Get out, you weaselly sonofabitch," all her propriety gone as her anger exploded. "I'm not answering anymore of your fucking questions. Not tonight...dammit...not tonight."

The look on Kensi's face was nothing short of deadly and George wondered if her gun was close by. He turned back to Slater and thought he might be thinking the same thing.

"Please ma'am," his pleading voice hard to reconcile with the arrogant agent they had all come to hate. "I have news."

Diane suddenly sobbed out a gasp and slowly sank down onto the sofa, her hands shaking as she clasped them tightly in her lap. Kensi stood protectively by her side, her jaw rigid as her eyes shimmered with tears, trying to be strong for her friend. George was finding it hard to move, and the unwelcome agent finally took his arm and led him to a chair.

"Just tell her," Kensi said sharply, her patience gone. "Enjoy your big moment after you leave."

"I know I've been rough on you Mrs. Atwood...and you too sir," Slater said, sounding tentative and nervous. "I was wrong..."

"We know that," George said gruffly. "Now tell us your news Slater, before I do something really stupid."

"Is he dead?" Diane asked solemnly, holding her head high, her expression strong and resolute.

Slater seemed to falter and actually looked shocked by the blunt question as if he hadn't realized the conclusion they'd all drawn from his odd behavior. His expression softened, but his voice came out in that overly officious way he had of speaking.

"Tonight I learned just how wrong I was about your husband, Mrs. Atwood," he said, actually sounding apologetic. "And for some reason I was asked to come inform you that he's alive. He was rescued earlier today and taken to a hospital in Lafayette, Louisiana."

There was that split second of disbelief and then the rush of pure joy as George realized his son was coming back to him. Diane looked stunned and he realized she'd been preparing herself for bad news for so long it was hard for her to grasp the truth. Kensi looked euphoric, lowering herself down on the couch beside Diane, both of them crying as they embraced each other. George was a realist though, and he turned to face the agent, wanting details about how badly he was hurt.

"How much do you know?" He asked. "And how much can you tell us?"

"Most of its classified," he said, some of his natural arrogance returning. "But I can tell you that for his own protection the FBI will report that he died at the scene of a shoot out with The Brotherhood. He's in the hospital under the assumed name Joseph Hand..."

"Elan's with him, Di," George called out, the knowledge calming him even more.

"He's going to be okay though, right Agent Slater?" She asked. "Being in the hospital is just a precaution..."

"I wasn't given access to that information, Mrs. Atwood," he replied, sounding slightly miffed that he wasn't.

"I told you he wasn't a traitor," she shot back, her anger fresh again.

"Let it go Diane," George urged. "Anything else you can tell us, Agent Slater?"

"Ms. Lange asks that you stay here until the news is released, which should be sometime tomorrow morning" he replied. "After that, she suggests you both return to your ranch in Wyoming. Everyone in the FBI and other law enforcement agencies will be told that the family will be making private funeral arrangements. When he's able to travel, Ms. Lange intends to fly him up there."

"Why can't I go to the hospital?" She asked. "If he's hurt I want to be with him."

"That wouldn't be advisable, ma'am," he said curtly.

"You're afraid someone might see them or is monitoring their movements," Kensi said softly. "It might compromise his cover, Di. Put him in danger again."

"Elan will watch over him," George said, but his disappointment was still sharp.

"Did they read you in on everything?" Kensi asked, her eyes boring into the man.

"I'm now officially a member of an undercover task force operating under the auspices of the National Joint Terrorism Task Force," the agent responded proudly. "You however, are not, Agent Blye. So, other than what I've already revealed, everything else is classified and on a need to know basis."

"Well I need to know if my partner is all right," she said stubbornly. "He's undercover with The Brotherhood."

"How the hell do you know that?" He demanded, reverting to his usual obnoxious self.

"He told me," she replied, her chin raised in defiance.

"He shouldn't have done that," the man growled. "It's against protocol."

"I'm a federal agent and he's my partner," she said stonily. "My entire team is undercover on this, so don't tell me it's against protocol for me to know what's going on with my own partner."

"Ms. Lange gave me no orders to share information about your partner," Slater said.

"But she didn't order you not to, did she?" Kensi replied curtly, growing angrier if the vein pulsing in her forehead was any indication.

"I met your partner," he said flippantly. "Looked like he would fit right in with a rogue militia group."

"That's one of the reasons he's so good at undercover work," she said, her rigid smile a little bit scary to George.

"Maybe he relates to them on some level," he said, his voice full of contempt.

"What the hell does that mean?" Kensi shot back.

"He saved their leader Antoine Guidry from being killed," he said smugly. "Maybe he's gone over to the dark side, as they say."

"You just can't help yourself, can you Slater?" George said, barely able to contain his outraged. "First you dishonor my son Joe, and now you insult my other son? Get the hell out."

The man's demeanor subtly changed, his natural brashness returning as his eyes flashed with annoyance.

"What other reason could he have had for taking a bullet for the man?" Slater asked.

"Now you're questioning Marty's loyalty?" George growled.

"He's back with The Brotherhood," he replied smugly. "Maybe wallowing in the mud with those particular terrorists holds a certain appeal for him. After reading his juvenile records, maybe Guidry reminds him of his real father."

"How did you get access? Those records are sealed by the Juvenile Court," Kensi asked, her eyes flashing darkly.

"I like to know whom I'm dealing with," he replied.

"If you've seen those records then you know how badly he was abused by his father," George said as he took a step toward the man. "He hated everything about his father. I don't know anything about this man Guidry, but if he's anything like Marty's father, then my son won't be taken in by him."

"Possibly, but it must feel familiar to be under the control of another violent man," Slater stated brazenly. "His father beat him into submission as a child. He dominated him with violence. Maybe Guidry will do the same. That kind of violence is in his blood and blood recognizes blood."

Stunned into silence George stared back at the infuriating agent, still feeling some elation about Joe, but suddenly frightened and terribly worried for Deeks. Kensi instantly pulled her cell and called Hetty, and it wasn't hard to tell she was as angry as he was as she handed him the phone.

"Hetty? It's George. Slater gave us the news about Joe. Thank you for that. Now I want you to come here and tell me what's going on with Marty before I kick the ever lovin' shit out of an FBI agent."

...

...


	17. Chapter 17

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 17_

...

 **Rated M**

...

His disturbing dreams evaporated as he slowly woke, struggling to breathe in the muggy air, his mouth tasting of mud as he painfully swallowed the bile in his throat. It hurt to move, but he eased his bare back up the rough-hewn post before he even opened his eyes, carefully assessing his pain levels. His arms were numb below the elbows and his shoulder joints stiff, the dull ache from being tied in one position so long making him curse softly behind the gag. Finally opening his eyes, Deeks raised his head in the yellowish gray light and looked across at Callen. He smiled inwardly that his brother had managed to lower himself into a sitting position, his chin resting on his chest and his legs crossed in front of him. One of the many advantages of not having a rope tied around your neck he supposed. Even in the pale light he could see dark bruises around his eyes and across his ribs and abs, and he felt the first stirrings of renewed anger. If he got the chance to take out Saint, he felt no urge to be sensible. He simply wanted to kick the shit out of the bastard for himself and for his brother. His comm was dead, but he could almost hear Roy telling him not to do anything stupid, but even if he could hear him he didn't intend to pay any attention whatsoever to any cautionary advice.

Slow moving layers of mist hovered over the camp, obscuring some of the outlying cabins and the bayou beyond the trees. Listening to the snores of the militiamen lying sprawled in their hammocks on the other platforms as they slept off their hangovers, stirred stark memories and his heart quickened. There had been times last night when he didn't think Saint would let him see another morning, that the depraved bastard would gut him as he'd warned him he would. He knew the man was a coward. That's why they'd been tied up and gagged. He didn't want these men to know he had run from the Feds without firing a shot, and he surely didn't want Guidry to know, making Deeks wonder if he was really going to keep them alive until Guidry got here.

He became anxious when he heard the distant sound of an outboard motor, and quickly looked to see if Callen was awake. He was met by the man's intense blue eyes as he slowly edged his way back up the post until he was standing. When he nodded at him, his eyes were turbulent with emotion as if he wanted to give him all the strength he had left, his affection so easy to read that Deeks felt his chest tighten. If they made him watch as they killed his brother it would tear his heart out. He blinked back sudden tears, and it was only the determination on Callen's face and his own deep rage that kept him from breaking down. He didn't want to let Callen down and he sure as hell didn't want Saint or his men see him break.

Some of the men began to stir and he saw Saint walk down toward the bayou and he prepared himself to resist whatever they tried to do to them. Joe had escaped these bastards and he had been alone. He didn't want to die here and he didn't want Callen to either, but it sure as hell looked like a possibility. So he waited, willing to take on whoever or whatever came his way, to fight the inevitable all the way to the end.

The motor stopped and so did his breathing for a moment as he strained to hear Guidry's voice, but all he heard were hacking coughs and moans from the waking militiamen. There were no shout outs in Cajun, no welcome that he could hear, just the soft panting of dogs as they led the way into camp. Deeks felt his stomach drop and he looked back at Callen, whose eyes were simply pale and so very sad. Then he saw Addy with Punkin, the dog slinking along by her side and it surprised him and gave him hope until he saw who was walking behind her. It was Tino, his face fierce and his eyes dark as thunder. Saint had his arm around his shoulder, talking and occasionally pointing their way and he suddenly felt empty and without hope. Saint passed a fifth of whisky to Tino and the man downed a quarter of it as he stalked toward them, shoving it back into Saint's chest before jumping up on the platform. He didn't say anything, he just strode over and slugged him very low and very hard. White hot pain exploded through his entire body and he screamed into the gag as he sagged almost to his knees, the only thing holding him up was the rope now taut around his throat. Tino grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him upright and slammed his head back against the post, and held him there as his other hand gripped his throat.

"Payback, little fucker," he snarled in his face. "Saint says you got my brother killed, you fuckin' little shit. So, maybe I'll just kill yours."

"No need ta rush things, Tino," Saint said as he draped his arm across Tino's shoulder. "This one's fun ta play with. Oughta suffer for what they done don't ya think? Maybe we let 'em run for a ways, toy with 'em a bit before we hunt 'em down and set the dogs on 'em."

"That's Guidry's thing," Tino said. "I'll kill 'em with my own two hands."

"Is he comin'?" Saint asked.

"He'll be along," Tino replied as he pushed away from Deeks and took a step back.

"Then lets have us a little fun with these two bastards before he gets here," Saint suggested with a sick smile.

"Looks like you already did," Tino said as he took the whiskey bottle from Saint's hand and took a long swallow. "You fuck 'im?"

"Not yet," Saint said as he reached out and gripped Deeks' jaw.

Deeks was close to passing out and his eyes streamed with tears from the pain as he fought to keep from throwing up.

"That stint in Angola turned you into a sick sonofabitch, Saint. You been up here way too long," Tino said. "Why don'tcha go fuck Addy and leave this little shit and his brother to me."

"You gonna kill 'em before Guidry gets here, Tino?" Addy's small voice asked from behind the two men. "He ain't gonna like it if you do."

"Shut the fuck up ya little whore," Saint snapped. "Ain't none of your damn business."

"Leave her be, man. She likes 'im," Tino said quietly. "Likes the way he fucks. Don't ya little girl?"

"He's nice," she replied and Deeks was surprised to see real concern on her face.

"Bullshit! He's a weak bastard the Feds turned," Saint rushed out.

"How do you know that?" Tino asked. "You see 'em get captured?"

"I was too busy fightin' Feds," Saint said, puffing out his chest.

Deeks roared out his denial as loudly as the gag allowed, his eyes wild with anger as he shook his head and strained against the ropes that held him. Saint backhanded him across the cheek, and started to choke him, but Tino pulled him off.

"Don't look like he agrees with you, man," Tino said sullenly, staring at Saint. "Guidry's gonna want to deal with them in his own way. We'll wait."

"Who the hell made you king of the hill, Tino," Saint roared out. "This here is my command, not yours. And if I want ta kick this asshole around camp I'm damn well gonna do it. So back the hell off."

Saint had his knife out in a split second and Addy let out a small cry and stepped back. She looked stricken and quickly turned and ran, leaping off the platform and heading for the bayou, leaving Deeks fearful of what was coming. He looked across at Callen, who was straining against the ropes, roaring out his own anger as best he could, his eyes red rimmed and full of rage. Deeks tried to prepare himself when he saw Tino back away with his hands up, giving in to the crazy bastard with the sick smile.

"You all mine now, little fucker," Saint whispered as he sliced the rope around his neck and then leaned against him to cut him free of the post.

Deeks collapsed to his knees and fell forward onto his shoulder, drawing his knees up as the brilliant pain in his groin ignited once again. His vision grayed as Saint grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back up to his knees. He was a strong man and his grip was powerful as he dragged him to the edge of the platform and shoved him off onto the ground. He cried out and heard Saint laugh as he jumped down to stand over him where he lay face down in the dirt.

"Get up, you weak shit," Saint growled. "Run for it. See how far ya can get."

Deeks didn't think he could even stand, let alone run, so he ignored the bastard as he took in shallow breaths of stifling air. He could hear his brother's muffled outrage, and that calmed him for some reason. Resigned to the fact he didn't have the energy to resist, he closed his eyes, his body succumbing to the debilitating pain. When Saint straddled him, he groaned, knowing what was coming as the man pressed his face into the ground and pushed his tied wrists up high on his back.

"Your brother's next, Jimmy boy. Wanna watch?" Saint whispered slowly as he released his head and ran his hand along his shoulder and down his arm, his knees now between his legs and pressing against the inside of his thighs.

He could hear him breathing heavily as his fingernails gouged into his ass, and he bucked against him, raging and cursing him and fighting as the man snickered at his efforts. A hard punch to the wound in his side made him scream, and left him groggy and weak, his heart pounding as his mind echoed with stark memories of the past. He wanted to kill this man, the urge so strong he almost choked on the hate. And then suddenly the weight of the man was no longer there, a loud, indignant curse filling the air as Saint was knocked off of him and onto the ground.

"What ya think ya doin', ya fuckin' couyon?" Guidry's harsh growl sounding very sweet at the moment. "You don't do nothin' less I say so. Specially dis shit."

"He made a deal with the Feds, boss," Saint said hurriedly as he scrambled back to his feet.

"Mebbe, mebbe not," Guidry said quietly, kneeling down in front of Deeks as he spoke. "But ya forget one thing, couyon. Dis here boy save my life. I say what happens to 'im. Not you. Ya hear?"

Deeks felt his hands cut free and then he was lifted to his feet by several men and half dragged over to the platform. The pain exploded as they lowered him down on the edge, and he almost passed out, but Guidry held his shoulders, keeping him partially upright and he was grateful for that. He moaned with relief when the man pulled the gag from his mouth and promptly vomited the bile churning in his stomach. Guidry stepped away and then sat down beside him.

"Ya tell me de truth Jimmy, or big brother Jake gonna git Saint's dick up his ass 'stead a you. Ya hear?

"Got it," Deeks replied weakly, barely holding his anger.

"Them Feds catch ya?"

"No sir."

"He's a fuckin' liar," Saint shouted. "They was gone for hours after the firefight. No reason for it 'cept if the Feds got 'em."

"Why ya gag dese here boys, Saint-Jean?" Guidry asked, looking up at Saint with cunning, hooded eyes.

"Whadda ya mean?" Saint's voice now a whisper.

"Ya afraid what dey gonna say?" He asked, and Deeks looked over at him, wondering if he somehow knew what had happened.

"No...just tired a listenin' to 'em I guess."

"Tell me what all happen, Jimmy," Guidry said. "Don't leave nothin' out, boy."

So Deeks recounted it all honestly except the part about finding Joe. As he started talking about the firefight, Saint's eyes darkened and his hands curled into fists and Deeks forced himself to his feet.

"You ran, you piece of shit. Didn't even fire a fuckin' shot," he shouted into his face, hitting him as hard as he was able, managing a smile as blood spurted from his nose.

Saint roared out a curse and slugged him back, knocking him to the ground, kicking him and screaming he was a liar. Tino and a couple of other militiamen rushed to pull Saint away as he spewed out lies about his bravery. Guidry watched it all without a word, finally bending down to help Deeks get to his feet, where he stood swaying as blood dripped from his cut lip.

"Why it take so long for y'all ta git on back here?" He asked, helping him sit back down on the edge of the platform.

"I fell and Jake came back for me," he explained. "Saint yelled we was on our own, and took off. Firefight was intense, but we was outnumbered when Saint left. When we heard the FBI guy callin' in choppers, we hid for a while and then tried ta find our way back."

"Y'all git lost, boy?"

"Yessir, 'fraid we did," Deeks replied, looking as embarrassed as he could. "Hid from the choppers for over an hour. Them babies had some big guns on 'em."

"Who dey kill?"

"Rigo went down first...sniper I think," he answered. "He stood up like a man, Tino. Mighta even got one of 'em. Then Purdy got hit. Beau was dead when we got there. They was waitin' for us, I think."

"How many Feds y'all up against?"

"Don't really know, but there was a lot of 'em...they were hidin' in the trees and the church," he replied.

"That ain't the way it happened, boss," Saint said, straining against the men who held him. "I'm tellin' ya. These two fucks are workin' for the Feds."

"Ya forget sumpin', Saint-Jean?" Guidry said quietly. "I got somebody on de inside a dat task force. Jimmy tol it just like it happen 'cept for one thing. That Fed we been huntin', Phil Beeler? He killed dere too. Figure Rigo got 'im like dis here boy say."

Tino suddenly rushed Saint, hitting him solidly in the face a few times before Guidry had him pulled off.

"You're a goddam coward, Saint," Tino shouted as he fought the men holding him back. "I'm gonna kill you, you sonofabitch."

"Hold up, Tino," Guidry ordered. "Gotta question for 'im. Massie go along on dat mission, right?. So...where he be, Saint-Jean? He not in camp, so where he git to?"

"He stuck with Saint during the firefight," Deeks said, curious himself.

Saint cringed at the mention of the man's name and Guidry seemed to uncoil like a snake as he stood and slowly moved toward the man. Saint wouldn't look at him, but Guidry grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"Whatcha do, couyon? Huh?" Guidry's voice was a low gravelly growl and he slowly stroked his cheek. "Massie weren't too smart, but he my bon ami. Grew up together over in Eunice. Like ta be able ta tell his mama what happen to 'im."

"Don't know," Saint replied, looking sullen and pissed.

"Ya kill 'im, mebbe? Wanna keep 'im quiet like ya did dese two?"

"He was wounded..." Saint finally admitted softly and Guidry slapped him hard.

"So ya let 'im die out dere...all alone like he was nothin' ta nobody, couyon," Guidry said slowly as if he couldn't believe it. "Ya gag dese two ta keep 'im quiet...beat de shit outa dem and was fixin' ta fuck de boy who save my life...den you was gonna kill 'em both 'for I ever had a chance ta hear de truth. That about right, couyon?"

"Come on, boss..." Saint pleaded, real deep fear in his voice and in his eyes.

"Cain't let dis pass, Saint-Jean."

"Please..."

"Tino? Strip 'im naked like he done dese boys," Guidry ordered. "Den we gonna stake ya out on that little island in de bayou, Saint-Jean. Watch how long it take dem gators ta find dere supper."

Saint looked shocked and scared to death, screaming for mercy as the men dragged him away. Deeks actual felt sorry for the man for one brief second, but he was too exhausted and hurting too much to care what they did to the bastard. He stood up unsteadily and turned to see them cutting Callen free and he grabbed the corner post, leaning wearily against it, watching Callen pull his jeans on, looking a bit shaky himself.

"Addy gonna see ta both of ya, Jimmy," Guidry said as he put a his hand on the back of his neck. "Dat wound bleedin' agin. Git ya some rest, boy. Den we talk. Y'all need ta know what we up to."

The man never said he was sorry for what had happened, but then he hadn't expected him to. His odd kindness had surprised him, but he knew he couldn't let his guard down. The man was still a vicious killer, and undoubtedly a sociopath and probably insane, but he was also incredibly intelligent and cunning. He'd known there had to be a reason Saint had gagged them and that one misstep would cost the man his life. He had no illusions that Guidry cared about him, but saving his life had definitely given them an advantage. Unless they screwed up, they could use it to get closer to his inner circle and discover the men behind it all in Washington.

"You okay?" Callen whispered as he dropped down beside him and gripped his shoulder.

"You look like shit," he replied with a slight smile.

"Thanks, so do you," Callen said with a smirk before pulling his head into his chest and holding him there.

He could hear his brother's heart beating hard and was surprised to feel Callen's hand trembling as he squeezed the back of his neck and let out a long sigh.

"I wanted to kill that fuck," Callen breathed out.

"Which one?" He asked softly as he raised his head to look around him.

He saw Addy standing off to the side holding his jeans and shoes, waiting patiently for them to finish their reunion and he suddenly felt quite fond of her for speaking up. It had been a brave thing to do and he found he was proud of her.

"Y'all just look awful," she said sadly as she came up to him. "I'm so sorry Saint tried ta do that to ya. He's a real asshole."

"That ain't my favorite word right now, darlin'," Suddenly feeling weak in the knees, he stumbled back against the post, and Callen reached him before he could fall, getting a shoulder under his arm to steady him.

"Let's get you back to the cabin, kid," Callen said with concern, but his voice was rough and still choked with obvious anger.

"I'll bring ya some tee shirts and water ta wash up," Addy promised as she handed over his stuff. "He's bleedin' so I'll bring the first aid kit too."

She finally ran off, leaving them alone as they slowly made their way across the open ground. The men avoided them, and he recognized a couple of the ones who had assaulted them last night, but none of them would look them in the eye. They had seen how Guidry had treated him and he thought they might be afraid he would point them out for what they'd done. If he did, they would become enemies, if Guidry didn't feed the bastards to the gators. If he didn't, it might just make them grateful. The Hale brothers would have to deal with them on their own. They would be expecting it.

The world was turning gray fast, and Deeks knew he was close to shutting down, but he fought it. He had to inform Callen and Roy about The Brotherhood's target, and he needed to hear how Joe was doing.

"You bring extra earwigs?" He whispered as Callen helped him inside the stuffy cabin. "I got somethin'."

"How?"

"Saint was bragging," he said as Callen eased him down on the bed.

He began shivering as he laid down, even though it was muggy and hot. Callen covered him with the thin blanket as he panted through the dull ache radiating out from his groin. He wanted so badly to sleep, but he held on until Callen came back with the extra earwig from wherever he had hidden it. Tucking it into his ear, he smiled and slowly relaxed as Roy's soft drawl flowed through the comm link.

"Damn boys. Them Toussaint prayers musta worked," he said. "I thought y'all were both done. You doing okay? Do we need ta pull ya out?"

"We're alive. I'll fill you in on what happened later," Callen said as he stood near the only window to watch for Addy. "Deeks got something."

"How the hell you manage that, squirt?" Roy asked.

"I hope that's a term of endearment, dipshit," Deeks laughed.

"If your intel's good it is," he replied.

"Saint said they're gonna blow up the federal courthouse in Baton Rouge."

"No shit? When?"

"Didn't tell me that," Deeks replied. "Maybe Joe knows."

When Roy didn't immediately answer he got a sick feeling in his stomach and started to panic. Callen must have noticed and quickly came to sit beside him.

"Tell me the truth, man," Deeks choked out. "Please...did Joe make it? Is he alive?"

"He's in ICU," Roy said quietly. "Elan hasn't checked in yet this mornin', but as of last night, he was critical. He got severe sepsis from that dog bite."

Deeks turned over and covered his head with his arms. Callen laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it did nothing to still the fear in his heart.

"I need to talk to Elan," he murmured.

Then he drifted, listening to Callen and Roy discuss the intel, but he offered nothing more, too tired to care. He must have dozed off, starting awake when he heard Addy arrive. Her voice barely registered, but when her big hound jumped up on the bed and snuffled under his arms, he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. She had her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and her small breasts pressed against the fabric of her thin, pale pink tank top as she leaned over him.

"Hi darlin'," he smiled lazily, getting raised eyebrows and a smirk from Callen.

"You poor baby. Look what that bastard did to your pretty face," she whined. "I'll take care of ya, sweetie pie. My grandmama taught me a bit about takin' care of a wounded man. Her family was kinda wild, so she had lots of experience."

The young girl rattled on about her family while she gently cleaned the dirty sweat and blood from his face and throat. She ran her tongue out over her bottom lip when she pulled the blanket down to get at his chest and the wound in his side, and appeared to be enjoying herself. She was gentle, but each time she ran the wet cloth over the fresh bruises on his body, and especially his tender ribs, he tensed and hissed at the bright pain. As Addy worked, Callen watched with an amused smirk on his face but he could still see the concern in his eyes.

"I brought ya some moonshine, case ya need it for the pain," Addy said brightly. "It'll help ya sleep too."

"I bet it will," Callen said, unscrewing the lid of the mason jar to sniff the fiery liquor. "Whoa. This stuff'll strip paint. Won't hurt to take a couple of sips, Jimmy. It's gonna hurt like hell when she starts cleanin' that bullet wound."

"'Specially when I douse it with that stuff," she said, laying a hand on his chest as she slowly stroked his hair. "You wanna bite down on something when I do it, so they won't hear ya scream?"

"They already heard 'im scream," Callen suddenly snapped. "Anybody says anything about it I'll shoot 'im where they stand."

"Hey Jake...it's okay brother."

"The hell it is," he snarled, and it wasn't his alias talking. "They come at me or you again they'll be sorry, 'cause I know exactly where the bullet's gonna go."

Deeks wondered if Callen had truly lost it or was sending a warning the only way he could...through Addy. She looked a little scared by the seemingly volatile man, but stood her ground and reached for the jar of moonshine. Deeks raised up on one elbow as she handed him the stuff, taking a few fiery sips, his eyes watering as he forced it down, coughing from the rawness of it.

"Go ahead, Addy," Deeks finally said, staring intently at Callen. "I'm tough...I can take it."

He knew Callen was enraged by what Saint had done to him, and he appreciated his threat to protect him, but he needed him to be the professional he was, not the vengeful brother. He might be hurting, but he could still finish this assignment, and Callen needed to believe that. Deeks could see his sudden regret for doubting him, so he smiled to ease his mind, as Addy took the moonshine.

He didn't scream, but he did pass out briefly and Callen was gripping his hand hard when he came to.

"Told you I could take it," he whispered.

"Yeah, brother...you were just takin' a little nap there for a second," Callen smirked.

He tightened his grip on Callen's hand as Addy deftly put some stitches in the wound in his side. They weren't pretty, but they stopped the bleeding and he was grateful for her kindness. Once she taped a bandage over it, he could tell Callen wanted her to leave.

"I got it from here, Addy. Thanks."

"I'll bring y'all some coffee and cornbread in a bit," she offered. "Y'all must be hungry."

She smiled at him and bit her lip, her eyes lingering on his body before calling to her dog and reluctantly walking out.

"You're a bruised and bloody mess and she was still flirting with you," Callen said shaky his head and looking bewildered. "I really do not get it."

"It's the hair, Cuz," Elan said softly in their ears.

"God Elan...it's good to hear your voice," Deeks said, groaning as he sat up and gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed. "How's Joe?"

"First, tell me how you two are doing," he replied. "Roy sounded scared when I talked to him."

"I wasn't scared, I was concerned," Roy clarified.

"We're a little worse for wear, but we'll be okay," Callen said.

"Don't lie to me, Callen," Elan said roughly. "You told Roy what happened and he told me. Now tell me how you both are or I'm comin' to get you."

There was a depth of anger in his voice Deeks hadn't heard since Santa Fe, when they went to find his son. His persona had been pure Army Ranger then and it's what he sounded like now. He didn't doubt he would come in guns blazing, if he wasn't straight with him.

"I just got stitched up, so I'm not bleeding anymore," Deeks said. "But I won't be walking upright for awhile. Callen looks and probably feels like shit. We're hot and dirty, thirsty, hungry and ache all over, but other than that we're just dandy, brother."

"Smart ass," Elan said, but his tone had lightened.

"Now how's Joe?" Deeks said. "I need to know so I can still deal with all this shit."

"How 'bout I let him tell you himself," Elan said.

Deeks and Callen stared at each other as they listened to Elan transfer his earwig to Joe. Deeks could hardly breathe and had tears in his eyes as he waited to hear his brother's voice, and Callen was struggling to contain his own, but he was smiling.

"Hey guys...been awhile. I miss you," Joe finally said in a weak voice. "Deeks being a dumbass, G?"

"Actually he got some intel from the asshole who beat the crap out of 'im," Callen replied.

"Which asshole we talkin' about?" Joe asked in a wavering voice.

"Saint."

"God Deeks...did he..." Joe choked on the question and they both realized he knew exactly what the man had intended to do.

"No, buddy...no," Deeks hurried to comfort him.

"Don't lie to me, Marty."

"Guidry stopped him," Deeks replied, shivering at how close he'd come to being violated.

"Well he didn't stop him when he wanted to get Oscar to talk," Joe spit out angrily. "Made me watch that too, the damn sonofabitch."

"Shit. I'm sorry, brother," Deeks whispered.

"Get outa that camp," he pleaded. "He'll try again, Marty. He's a sick bastard."

"He won't be doing that to anybody ever again, Joe," Callen said quietly. "Guidry is feeding his ass to the alligators."

"Sonofabitch," Joe whispered. "I'd pay to see that."

"Joe...did you know they were gonna blow up the federal court house in Baton Rouge?" Callen asked.

"Thought it was gonna be a federal building in New Orleans, just never found out which one. They must have changed their plans after our cover was blown," Joe replied.

"So you don't know when it's supposed to happen either?" Deeks asked.

"Sorry. But I do know they were waiting to hear when some high level government officials were going to be at their target," he said softly, sounding tired. "It'll be somebody important."

"Maybe Eric and Nell can track officials who have scheduled upcoming trips to Baton Rouge," Callen said.

"And that should give us some possible dates," Deeks added.

"Now, tell us how you're doing, Joe," Callen said. "We've been worried."

"I'm just happy to be lying in a warm bed. I was getting real tired of that damn swamp. The drugs ain't bad either," he said quietly. "Doc said my vitals are better, but I got a lot of physical therapy ahead. Arm got torn up pretty bad."

"Have you talked to Di and George?" Deeks asked.

"It's still a little early back there, but don't worry, I'll call."

"Talked to Hetty," Roy cut in. "She wants to know if Safa Jordan can be trusted."

"Before my cover was blown I would have said absolutely," Joe said softly. "But right now, I don't trust anybody except my own family."

"Can I get adopted? Y'all can call me Uncle Roy."

"What do you say Deeks? Callen?" Joe asked easily. "This guy worthy to be part of the Atwood extended family?"

"He does make a mean jambalaya," Callen said with a smile.

"He's a wise ass, Joe. Irritating. Annoying...and talks too much," Deeks responded.

"Sound like anyone we know, G?" Joe laughed.

"Really? Come on. You guys love me," Deeks said with a cocky smile.

"If that's a prerequisite...I'm out," Roy said. "Called me a dickwad the first night we met."

"Are you a dickwad?" Joe asked.

"Ain't that a requirement to be in your family?" Roy laughed.

"That and being able to ride a horse," Joe replied.

"Roy's afraid of horses," They heard Elan say in the background.

"Never said I was afraid of 'im. Just said I didn't like 'em much," Roy replied.

"Maybe you just haven't met the right horse," Deeks said softly.

"Y'all are weird."

"Then you're gonna fit right in, Uncle Roy," Joe laughed.

...

...


	18. Chapter 18

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 18_

...

The last bite of cornbread stuck in his throat as his restless mind replayed this morning's scene again and again, his simmering rage close to choking him. Deeks had only nibbled at the food Addy had brought, but he practically guzzled a couple of cups of the bitter coffee and Callen was fairly sure he did it to try and stay awake. It hadn't worked and now he sat watching him mumble through a fitful sleep, and he tightened his grip on the gun, holding it rigidly between his knees, ready for whatever might come next. Addy had told him they wouldn't be disturbed until supper, but he wasn't counting on it, so he sat in the rickety chair against the wall at the end of the bed so he could keep an eye on the door and his brother. He still found it hard to even say that word, to call him brother to his face, afraid it might jinx what existed between them now, not that he was superstitious. Sam had laughed when he told him that early on, teasing him, calling him a "scaredy cat" as if he were a child and telling him Deeks wasn't going anywhere. Deeks always called him brother so easily and it made him smile even now, in this godforsaken place.

He had never felt as helpless as he'd felt last night and again this morning, fearing not just what they might do to Deeks physically, but that their violence might bring back all the horror the former Stasi agent Wilhelm Jürgen had put him through in South Africa. He had only witnessed the results of that man's methods of torture, but all the panic attacks Deeks had suffered in the aftermath of that ordeal had hinted at the terrible psychological abuse he must have gone through. They had all tried at one time or another to get him to share some of what had clearly traumatized him, but he'd always refused to speak about it. They all knew he was holding back the worst of it, and Callen had always defended his right to do that, just as he himself had kept most of his childhood terrors to himself, even when Sam pushed him to open up. Some things were too painful to voice. Bringing them out of the shadows only made them real again.

He had seen the haunted look on Deeks' face when Saint had started in on him, had seen him unwittingly flinch when the man put his hands on his naked body. The rage was evident, but it had quickly changed to resignation when he looked over at him, and Callen had guessed the bastard had threatened to hurt him if Deeks didn't cooperate. It was one of the many things that still ignited his anger, that Deeks would sacrifice himself to protect him. He wasn't surprised by his willingness to do that, but he hated to be the cause of his suffering.

As a child he had no experience being a close friend, let alone a sibling, and he'd hated that loneliness, always jealous of those kids he saw with a loving family. Most of the families he'd become familiar with were phony ones, their homes desperate places warehousing desperate kids just trying to survive. Everyone kept their distance from everyone else. Harrowing experiences and just plain neglect were the norm that he'd run from whenever he got the chance, and that made for few friends, and none he would ever call brother. It was too dangerous emotionally to get close to any of the other kids, because if you did it hurt like hell when they were taken away and especially if they were punished. Some kids simply folded in on themselves, resigned to whatever pain was coming, accepting that somehow they deserved it. Some, like him, carried a chip on their shoulder and fought all comers, especially his so-called foster parents. He'd had a few good experiences. They just never lasted very long.

It was Sam who had taught him what it was like to have a brother, and he cared deeply for him, but his feelings for Deeks after seeing him practically destroyed by a psychopath had caught him unawares and he had fought those emotions for a long time. Not anymore. Not after seeing him struggle to overcome what Jürgen had done to him. That he had survived still amazed him, and when he saw Saint cut the clothes from his body leaving him naked and vulnerable just as he'd been with Jürgen, it sent a surge of raw, almost debilitating rage through him. He remembered his mother's death and the seething urge for vengeance that had filled most of his life. He had shot down as many of the murderous family who had killed her without hesitation or remorse. When Saint had cut Deeks down from that post and thrown him to the ground and then come close to violating him, he had felt nothing but icy coldness settle over his heart. He had shivered uncontrollably with the need to kill the man and the violence he'd wanted to unleash had truly stunned him. If he'd been free in that moment, he would have blown the sonofabitch away without a second thought and probably everyone else in the vicinity. Even after a couple of hours he was still jumpy and ready to take his deep rage out on anyone who dared to threaten either one of them, especially the man he had finally accepted as his brother.

"You planning on shooting somebody?" Deeks asked quietly.

Callen was startled by his voice, drawn abruptly out of his dark thoughts, cursing under his breath as he stumbled up from the chair. Deeks was watching him with turbulent eyes, his face softening into that vulnerable look that always tore at his heart. It did nothing now to calm him, only adding to his fear that Saint's sadistic treatment had brought back unwanted memories.

"He's not even close," Deeks said, surprising him by reading his thoughts so easily.

"Still..."

"Yeah, no...it brought it back, but..."

"You can talk to me...brother," he said, the sudden tears unexpected as he spoke that meaningful word.

There was a flicker of a smile from Deeks, but then he grimaced as he sat up and swung his feet over the far side of the bed. Keeping his back to Callen, he gripped the rough mattress as he waited out the obvious pain. Neither one said anything and the tension in the tiny cabin made it hard for Callen to breathe. He didn't want to push him or make him relive any of what had happened to him anymore than he already had, but he was willing to listen if he wanted to unburden himself.

"You haven't called me that in a long time," Deeks said softly.

"I know," he replied. "Thought you might need to be reminded in case you wanted to talk about..."

"Jürgen."

He breathed out the name without inflection, but the weight of that name hung heavily between them. Deeks ran his hand up into the hair at the base of his neck, fiddling nervously with it, and Callen kept quiet.

"Talking won't change anything," Deeks said, bowing his head. "And believe me, you don't want to know all of it."

"You think it'll make me think less of you if I knew what that bastard did that you're afraid to talk about?" Callen asked. "Because you'd be wrong."

"Maybe I don't want to risk it."

"You wouldn't be," he replied. "You're not the only one with demons."

"For so-called brothers, we don't know much about each other, do we?" Deeks said, his voice hollow and full of warning and accusations. "You've never talked about your childhood and I understand that. And I don't talk much about mine. Why walk through shit a second time."

He sounded deeply angry by the end of his comment and Callen moved closer, feeling the need to close the distance that seemed to have suddenly grown up between them. This was not what he'd wanted, but maybe he was naive to think it would go any other way.

"I'm not ashamed of my childhood, Deeks," Callen ventured. "But I think you're ashamed of something that wasn't even your fault."

Deeks flinched and then his muscles coiled and hardened. He uttered a low feral sound and bolted off the bed, charging straight at Callen.

"You don't know shit," he yelled, slamming him against the wall and hitting him before he could get his arm up to stop him.

Callen dodged the next punch, grappling with him as he spit out curses, trying desperately not to hurt him.

"Stop it!" Callen roared in his face, finally managing to twist his arm up behind his back and shove him onto the bed. "Just stop it."

Deeks went limp then and Callen let him be, exhausted by the fight and the emotions it had churned up. He reached out to him, gently squeezing his shoulder as he curled in on himself.

"I'm sorry, kid," he said. "I should have left it alone."

"Don't touch me...not now...please..."

The chilling memories of his fear of being touched after they got him away from Jürgen nearly broke him and he stood up and moved across the room. He fought back tears as his anger returned, silently berating himself for going anywhere near that subject. He was afraid their relationship had been irreparably damaged by what had just happened, and it saddened him, leaving him distraught and unsure as to how to repair it.

"Did I hurt you?" Deeks asked softly.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah, no...of course."

"I'll leave if you want," Callen said wearily.

"Don't...brother. Just listen."

Callen felt his heart flutter, realizing how hard it was going to be just to listen. Then he reminded himself how hard Deeks had fought to get back to being himself...the long recovery from his injuries...all the panic attacks and the nightmares he'd dealt with. He had survived it all and now all he was asking was for him to listen as he shared one of the most painful experiences of his life.

"You sure?" Callen asked.

"If I can't tell my brother..."

When he stopped, Callen turned to see him sitting on the end of the bed rubbing his trembling hands up and down the sides of his jeans, his head down and his wild hair shielding his eyes. He was afraid to move or make a sound, knowing how skittish Deeks was at this moment and how close he was to tearing out the door to find someone to take his anger out on. So he forced himself to remain patient, to listen to his brother, each one trusting the other with the weight of such a long held and painful secret.

"What Saint did...and tried to do," he stopped and took a deep breath. "It was different. It pissed me off. He's just a bully...a messed up one for sure, but...nothing like Jürgen...nothing."

Deeks became still for a moment, his hands forming into fists as he gathered himself, and Callen's anger flared that the man still held such power over him.

"After the Afrikaners stripped me naked...he had every part of my body tied to the bars of that cell...so tight I couldn't move...couldn't breathe..." Deeks started hesitantly, the words barely audible. "Jurgen loved to watch me struggle...at first...I struggled at first...then they shaved my head...and after a few days...I just froze when he came at me. He'd beat me... press on my broken ribs to make me scream...he got off on hearing me scream. And when he finally stopped...when the pain stopped...I was so damn grateful...G. I was grateful to that sonofabitch."

"Deeks..." Callen whispered.

"His hands...his hands were...soft," Deeks breathe out haltingly. "And...he took his time. His hands were always on me...touching me...stroking every part of my body...always talking...whispering in my ear what he was going to do...reminding me what he'd already done...stretching it out for what seemed like hours...long hours in the dark."

Callen wasn't sure how to comfort him, afraid to touch him, afraid to let him go on.

"Stop if you want to..."

"It was so intimate...just the two of us...private...," he continued as if he hadn't heard him, and Callen moved closer until finally sitting down on the bed next to him.

"The sonofabitch wanted me...wanted me to enjoy what he was doing. He aroused me G...he was gentle and...I appreciated that. I know that sounds sick...but I was just so thankful to be free of the constant pain...I needed that," Deeks whispered as tears streaked down his face.

He let out a broken sob and got up, walking over to the small window to stare blankly out.

"He made me cum, G...that monster made me...cum," his voice low and filled with disgust. "It was the only release I got...and it felt good...it felt good and I hated that it did...I hated myself for that...I still do."

Callen got up from the bed and moved to stand as close to him as he dared, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Still want to be my brother?" Deeks choked out, his head down, looking so uncertain it made Callen angry.

"I'm proud you're my brother, Marty," Callen said firmly, no doubt in his mind or in his voice and it made Deeks turn to face him. "Nothing will ever change that. Nothing that bastard did to you will. Nothing."

Deeks grabbed his tee shirt and pulled him into a fierce hug, holding on to him as if he couldn't believe what he said was true. Callen felt such relief as he wrapped his arms around him and then roughed up his unruly hair, trying to comfort him and stem his own tears, wanting to be as tough as he was.

"You're the strongest person I know, brother," Callen said. "Don't doubt that or yourself. You didn't do anything wrong, Deeks. You survived, and whatever it took to do that is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I never want to talk about this ever again," Deeks said hoarsely. "You're the only one I've told, and the only one I'll ever tell."

"No one will ever hear it from me," Callen said as they parted.

"I know."

"You okay?"

"I want to beat the crap out of somebody, but that's probably not a good idea right now," Deeks said as he lifted his tee shirt to wipe his face and eyes.

Callen handed him a bottle of water and waited while he downed it, wanting him to have the time to gather himself, to let the dark memories recede once again. He almost wished Jürgen was still alive so he could make the bastard suffer as he had Deeks, but the Atwoods had seen to that in the most brutal way possible. They had saved his brother and punished his abuser with a horrible death and for that Callen would always be grateful.

"Those bastards last night have to be dealt with," Callen said, wanting to bring him back to the present, to concentrate on the assignment. "Wouldn't be like the Hale brothers to let something like that go."

"I think Tino and I are even," Deeks said. "But the others are fair game."

"We take 'em on one at a time, Jimmy," Callen said with a smirk.

"No lone wolf action, Jake," Jimmy warned. "We do it together, brother."

"You scared I can't handle one of those scumbags?" Callen asked with a widening smile.

"Well, you are kinda old," his old cocky grin flickering briefly. "But the only thing I'm scared of...is seeing you hurt or worse, so as Roy would say...don't do nothin' stupid."

A piercing scream startled them both, and Callen turned to stare out the window.

"Saint," Deeks said softly, and sat down to pull on his socks and shoes.

"Not sure I want to see what a gator can do to a man," Callen said.

"Jake would and so would Jimmy," Deeks said as he stood up and shoved his gun behind his back.

"You're one tough sonofabitch, Jimmy Hale."

"Tougher'n you, big brother," he boasted and grinned cockily.

"Yeah...you are," Callen said quietly, his eyes misting as they stood staring at each other.

"I don't know how to..." Deeks dropped his head and Callen reached out to grip the back of his neck.

"You're my brother, Marty," he told him. "You can trust me. I'll always have your back."

"Thanks, brother."

"You ready?"

"Glad I didn't eat much. Wouldn't want to puke up that cornbread in front of all those dickheads," Deeks said with an exaggerated shiver. "But you did, big brother."

Callen slapped him on the back and shoved him toward the door as he grinned at him, thankful he had shared his burden and thankful for the brotherly love they felt for one another. That he no longer doubted.

...

The last time he was in this old boat shed was over three years ago. They had been brought here after Marty's memorial service when everyone thought he was dead. When Hetty had told them then that they believed his adopted son was still alive, it had been the beginning of a hellish period in his life, full of emotional ups and downs that had left the two of them estranged. He and Marty had worked things out and had become closer than ever, but now he feared for him again. Joe was safe and he'd been elated by the news, but Agent Slater's comments about Marty's situation and the violent man he and Callen were trying to bring down, had troubled him deeply. He wanted desperately to be able to talk to him, to listen to his voice and judge for himself how he was handling being around such a violent man, but he knew it wasn't possible. The man called Guidry had almost killed his son Joe, and now his other one was within that same man's reach and he didn't like it. Not at all, and he wasn't leaving this place until Hetty told him what was going on.

"Hello, George. So good to see you again," Hetty said as she walked in to greet him and Diane.

"What the hell is Slater doing here?" He asked as the agent walked in behind her.

George stood quickly, agitated by his presence, putting his arm around Diane as she got up and went rigid with anger. He knew how she felt about him after what he'd done to separate her from her little boy, and he was damned if he was going to let the rank bastard upset her.

"Mr. Slater has nothing to do with the reason you two are here," Hetty assured them. "However, I thought you might be interested in my response to the comments he made to you last night."

"What are you talking about?" Slater asked, sounding pissed as well as looking confused. "How do you even know what I said? All the surveillance equipment was removed. On your orders by the way. Whatever these two told you I doubt you can count on."

"What I do count on, other than the veracity of Mr. Atwood and Diane, is my agent, Miss Blye," she replied starchily. "Oh, and did I mention I had Mrs. Hanna install one tiny little bug that was for my ears only? Amazing how undetectable the CIA's devices are these days."

"You've been listening to us the whole time?" Diane asked, sounding shaken by the news.

"A nasty habit I have dear, but nothing you should be concerned about," she replied. "Whatever was said will be kept secret and in the strictest of confidence, I promise you. I'm afraid I wanted to keep tabs on Agent Slater here, in case he continued to put his foot in his mouth on his way to overstepping his parameters."

"What the hell does that mean?" Slater snapped.

"It means, Agent Slater, that you broke a few too many laws when you accessed Mr. Deeks' juvenile records," she said solemnly. "You not only illegally accessed files that had been sealed by the courts to protect an abused child, but you managed to get your hands on some NCIS personnel files that frankly, were none of your damn business."

"I'm a member of the Terrorism Task Force," he replied arrogantly. "I have a right to see the files on whoever's involved in this case so I can determine if they're trustworthy."

"What you did Mr. Slater, was not only illegal, but a breach of protocol," Hetty replied pointedly. "And I'm afraid you will be held accountable for it."

"This is ridiculous," Slater sputtered. "I don't answer to you. I'm FBI."

"Surely you recall the papers you signed when you so eagerly agreed to join our secret task force, don't you Mr. Slater?" Hetty asked with a tight smile. "They assigned you to me. You work for me Agent Slater, and it is my opinion that you don't measure up. You certainly don't work well with others and you continually overstep your bounds. Therefore, I am having you taken into custody and denying you any further access to government intel. You will be spending the remainder of this mission in a secure safe house, where you can be closely monitored."

"This is outrageous," Slater fumed, glowering at Hetty as two members of the tactical squad came in to stand on either side of him.

"That would be your behavior, Mr. Slater," she replied. "I don't tolerate agents who add to the problem instead of helping to solve it. Now, go along nicely or I'll have these gentlemen put you in handcuffs. I rather believe the Atwoods would enjoy seeing that."

Slater appeared to be in shock as he was led out of the boat shed, and George could feel Diane relax beside him.

"Damn woman...remind me never to tangle with you," George said, letting out a relieved laugh.

"I've had some experience dealing with people who got too big for their britches," she said with a bemused smile. "And this little twit had it coming."

"Thank you, Hetty," Di said quietly.

"It was a true pleasure, my dear," she replied. "Now, would you like to talk to your husband? I believe you have some good news to share with him."

"He's awake?" George asked.

"And doing much better," she replied. "Our Mr. Beale has set you up with a Skype session on the big screen. I hope you don't mind if I stay."

"After what you just did, you are more than welcome," Di said.

"Kinda wondering if you might not be breaking a rule or two by doing this," George said.

"Don't worry, George, the feed is secure and no one will find out Joe is still among the living," she assured him "Besides, some rules are meant to be broken."

"Especially if they're your own rules," he replied, appreciating the tiny woman more than he already did.

When the screen flashed and Joe appeared on screen, George walked over to be as close as he could be to the son he so longed to hug. Bruises and cuts marred his face and he looked so very tired. His forearm was wrapped in a thick bandage and encased in a sling that held it close to his chest, but it was the tears in his eyes and the weary smile that most held his attention. Joe had always been a strong, active man, a person who charged through life, confident in his abilities, and diligent in doing his duty with an unshakable sense of right and wrong. Today there was a look of defeat in his eyes like a horse that had been ridden too hard and too far and was close to collapse. It was the look he'd seen when he'd told him his older brother Chris had been killed in Afghanistan. That sense of defeat had been temporary, gradually morphing into rage and George wondered if his son would experience that same transformation this time, or already had, but keeping it hidden from them, especially from Diane.

"God it's good to see you," Joe said, his smile tentative.

"Tell us how you are, son," George said. "We've been worried."

"Damn tired, Dad," he said, his eyes dark and furtive as if his mind were elsewhere. "Doc's gonna keep me for a few days longer. Got mauled by a dog and infection set in. But, I'll make it."

"We'll be at the ranch when you get there," Di said quietly, looking as though she couldn't quite believe he was real. "Little Chris is missing his daddy. Talks about you all the time. Runs to the door if he hears a car pull up."

"I miss you all so much," he replied. "Have you been okay? Elan said the FBI told you I was a traitor. The sonsabitches. Still damn pissed about that and worried for you."

"You know we would never believed any of that bull, son," George quickly said. "Diane was a trooper and Callen and Marty stood by us both till they took off to look for you."

"Couldn't believe it when I saw that dumbass grinnin' at me," Joe's laugh faded and he looked away as his eyes watered. "I didn't think I'd ever see any of you again...I almost didn't make it, Dad. Thinking of Di and Chris...all of you...it kept me going."

"Your safe now, Cuz," Elan's voice cutting in.

"Yeah...but Marty and G aren't," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Any news?"

"Nothing I can share at the moment, Mr. Atwood," Hetty said gently. "But they are safe for now."

"As long as they're with Guidry they'll never be safe," he snapped.

"They're there to finish what you started, Joe," she replied calmly. "Guidry seems to have taken a liking to Mr. Deeks since he saved his life."

"Tell Deeks not to trust him, Hetty," Joe demanded, looking agitated and angry. "He's a sick bastard that'll turn on him before he knows what hit him..."

"We'll talk later about the mission, Joe," Hetty interrupted. "Right now, I think your wife might like to speak with you alone, and I owe your father a good strong cup of tea."

"Please don't go, Dad," Joe pleaded. "I just need to be with you a little bit longer."

"Ain't going nowhere, son. Don't even like tea."

"Then I'll say my goodbyes for now," Hetty said. "Take as long as you like."

When they were alone, George saw his son sink back into the pillows and Elan's hand tightly gripped his shoulder. He'd been holding himself together in her presence, but now it was just family and he gave into his emotions, exhaustion softening his face.

"Joe? Are you all right?" Diane saw the change and George could see it frightened her.

"No need to hide anything from us, son," George said. "We both know what they did to your partner."

"I can't get it out of my head...," Joe whispered. "I sure as hell can't sleep unless they drug me...all I hear are Oscar's screams. How do I stop thinking about it? And now Marty and Callen are under Guidry's control. I'm scared to death for them, Dad."

"They're both strong men, son," he replied gently, hiding his own fears as best he could. "They'll watch out for each other. You know that. You just have to trust them, son."

"I know, but I just keep dwelling on all the ways he can hurt them," he replied, his voice full of anguish.

"Maybe you should start thinking about something else," Di said softly. "Like baby names."

"What?"

"We're going to have a baby, Joe," she said. "You're going to be a daddy again."

"You're sure?" He asked, his smile wide as his eyes filled with tears.

"Might even be a girl," Di said as she nodded happily.

"Did you hear that Elan?"

"If it's a girl, you're gonna be in big trouble, Cuz," Elan said as he hugged Joe. "She's gonna wrap you around her tiny little finger for sure. I see tea parties and lots of dolls in your future."

"Don't forget ballet lessons," Di offered. "And little pink tutus."

"God that sounds so...normal," Joe sighed. "Chris will be a big brother."

He choked up at that thought and covered his face with his hand. The trial he'd gone through had shaken him to the core and still had a hold on him, but George knew the power of family. Once he got him home to the ranch, he would begin to heal. Now his only worry was for Marty and for Callen.

He might not be a trained federal agent but he read people well, and there was something Hetty wasn't telling them. The mission was far from over and neither was the waiting. Another son might be going through hell, but Hetty wasn't willing to share what that particular hell was at the moment and there was nothing he could do to change that. Waiting for a son to come home was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do other than burying his wife and oldest son. Waiting taught you patience, but he was getting mighty tired of learning that particular lesson. He listened as Joe talked to his wife about due dates and baby things, changing little Chris's room to accommodate the newborn and whether it mattered if it was a girl or a boy, and it eased his mind some. But they all had a long road in front of them if anything happened to Marty. He had to trust that Callen cared for him as much as he thought he did. He had to trust in that bond that had grown between the two of them. He had to trust they loved each as brothers, willing to do whatever it takes to keep each other safe and get them both home.

...

...


	19. Chapter 19

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 19_

...

Sam was still fuming after being taken to task by Hetty for revealing his true identity to the Doucet family. How she knew that he had no idea, unless Roy had let it slip or just plain informed on him. She had curtly asked him if he'd forgotten what a black op was, and that had truly pissed him off. He had let loose his anger and frustration, snapping out that she needed to trust her agent in the field. The Doucets were the most closed mouth people he had met in a long time, and he told her that he appreciated their help and she should too. He reminded her that they understood what was at stake more than anyone and that had finally gotten her to back down somewhat. They were all on edge after Roy had revealed what Callen and especially Deeks had gone through, which was why he was here at the hospital, worried about Elan's reaction. He could blow the whole op if he did what he'd promised to do at the racetrack. Hopefully Joe would be able to control him, but if he didn't or was too concerned himself to want to, then it was his job to keep both of them in line.

As he turned the corner to approach the ICU he saw several familiar faces, and one he hadn't expected. He felt the tension rising as the Doucets surrounded Safa Jordan, their faces hard and unyielding. He realized then that they had met her before and the experience hadn't been a pleasant one for any of them.

"Safa? How'd you know to come here?" His suspicions sharp and troubling.

"That will have to remain one of my many secrets, Agent Hanna," she said flippantly. "Now tell these guys to let me pass. I need to talk to Joe and you, of course."

"Yeah right," he growled. "You forget my phone number?"

"Apparently you forgot mine when Joe was found alive and rescued and I wasn't informed," she accused, her dark eyes flashing with distrust.

"That was his call," he said softly.

"What?" Her eyes widening, obviously caught off guard by the information, but quickly covering the fact that she was hurt by it.

"He don't trust you neither," Gus Doucet said harshly. "He almost died out dere."

"Don't you think I know that?" She snapped, rounding on the man.

"Jest wonderin' if you give a good goddam," he said tightly, taking a step toward her. "Jest like I wondered when you told us Oscar was dead."

"That's enough," Sam said, noticing how shaken she was by the accusations. "We have things to discuss with Joe, Gus. She's gonna help us bring down The Brotherhood."

"You sure 'bout dat?" He snarled, and Sam realized that the man might be a dangerous force to be reckoned with.

"It's her job, man. Mine too," Sam said quietly. "Just like it was Oscar's."

The mention of his young brother's name silenced him and the others dropped their heads or turned away, their pain still fresh, stoking a deep rage they had no outlet for.

"It's not her you should be angry with, Gus," Sam said. "We're after the man who betrayed your brother and Joe. She's in a position to find out who that was. We need her."

"You promise me woman...you promise me you gonna get dat dere bastard," Gus said with frightening menace.

"You probably won't take my word that I will do just that, Mr. Doucet, so I'll swear it on my mother's grave," she said solemnly, standing her ground.

She obviously knew this was a matriarchal society for the most part, although they might not admit it, so what she'd said made her oath sacrosanct. Gus nodded at her and Sam saw his anger dissipate slowly and the wall of men moved aside, allowing them to enter the ICU.

"Thanks for backing me up," she whispered as the door closed behind them.

"Sorry for your loss," he said quietly as they moved toward Joe's room.

"You mean my mother? She lives in Philadelphia."

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he laughed.

"Does Joe really believe I'd give him up to Guidry?" She asked as she stopped and turned to face him.

"That's what I'm here to find out," Sam said, watching as her jaw tightened, knowing she wasn't fully trusted just yet.

"You have to know I would never do that. Never," she said. "But I think I have an idea who might have."

Sam couldn't hide his surprise and when she saw his reaction she smirked, reminding him of Callen. He hadn't spoken to her since he heard what had happened to Callen and Deeks and wondered if she knew. It didn't seem right to keep it from her at this point, especially if Joe wanted answers.

"Before we go in, there's something you need to know," Sam said.

Safa was a seasoned agent and a tough woman, but as he told her what had been done to Callen and Deeks, he saw her hard demeanor crack slightly. She made an attempt to block out her emotions, but failed, her face showing the disgust she felt and her eyes becoming turbulent with anger and residual fear before she looked away.

"I can see that your pissed, but I can also tell you're not surprised by what happened to Deeks," Sam said softly.

"I was at Oscar Doucet's autopsy," she replied. "I knew he'd been raped, I just didn't know by who."

As Sam started to usher her into Joe's room, she seemed reluctant to go, so he gave her a moment to settle down and get her emotions under control.

"Does he blame me?" She asked, her eyes searching his. "He was afraid for Oscar, but there was no way to pull him out without compromising the mission and leaving Joe without backup. Is that why he doesn't trust me?"

"That's something you need to ask him," Sam replied. "He knows what Saint-Jean almost did to Deeks and he's angry, so go easy when we get in there."

"You really think I need pointers on how to talk to my own agent?" She asked, looking offended by his suggestion.

"I've known Joe a lot longer than you," Sam said quietly. "They may not be related by blood, but Deeks is his kid brother and he loves him. I've seen just how angry Joe can become when bad things happen to him. This came real close to something that happened to Deeks a few years ago, and that won't be far from Joe's mind. So, be very careful about what you say in there and how you say it."

Safa nodded firmly, thankfully not asking for details, because that was something Sam had no desire to revisit. As he pushed open the door to Joe's room, he saw Elan uncoil into a fighting position as he rose from the chair, the soft click of a switchblade causing Safa to move her hand to her gun. Sam moved quickly in front of her and held out his hand to let him know she wasn't a threat.

"Elan."

"Sam. Who's she?" He asked, relaxing as he tucked the knife away.

"Her name's Safa Jordan," Joe said softly from the bed. "She was my handler."

"Still am, Agent Atwood," Safa said gently. "It's really good to see you, Joe."

"You mean alive?" Joe said, his voice low and sullen.

"I didn't give you up, Joe," Safa said firmly. "And I'm a little pissed you would think I would."

"Yeah? Well I haven't been in a real trusting mood for quite some time," he replied.

"That's understandable," she said. "I saw what they did to Oscar."

"I told you you should have pulled him out," Joe said angrily, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. "Why didn't you do that, Safa? He was just a kid."

"He'd been an undercover agent for four years, Joe," she said as she stepped up to his bedside. "He knew what we were asking of him and he volunteered to go in. He was more worried about you than he was for himself."

"What? Why?" Joe asked, edging up on his pillow.

"He was Cajun," she said softly. "He thought that gave him an advantage you didn't have. I think he was a little surprised at how well you fit in with the militiamen."

"A lot of them reminded me of some of the guys I served with in Afghanistan. They served because they love their country," he replied softly, but then his eyes flashed in irritation. "But, these militia guys...they have such a warped sense of what being a patriot means. They think their way is the only way. They think everybody else just blindly follows a bunch of weak leaders in Washington who don't respect their right to do whatever the hell they want. Guidry reinforces their hatred of government and they don't even realize or give a shit that they're the ones blindly following a man who's totally corrupt...a fucking murderer...with no soul...and who answers to some suits from Washington with a personal agenda."

He was winded when he finished his rant, the anger contorting his face and the others gave him time to calm down.

"I'm so sorry this happened, Joe," Safa finally said softly. "Oscar was a good man, and he didn't deserve what they did to him."

"You know, don't you?" He asked, his expression intense as he held her gaze.

"Yes...all of it."

"Do his people know?" Joe choked out.

"No. They didn't need to know that," she replied.

"Thanks...not sure I would have been able to face them if they knew that too," Joe responded, his voice just a whisper choked with tears.

"You told me you might have an idea who sold them out," Sam said to Safa. "Now might be a good time to share."

"Remember the guy who took a shot at you, Sam?" She asked.

"Somebody tried to take you out?" Elan asked, looking concerned.

"Do they know your team is here?" Joe asked, suddenly quite agitated. "What if they know about Deeks and..."

"I was undercover as a member of the DOJ," Sam said quickly. "I rattled their cage a little..."

"Must have been one hell of a show if they tried to kill you for it," Elan said, smiling slightly. "You get the guy?"

"No, but luckily for Sam, he missed," Safa said, her voice dropping into that cool, even tone she had when talking about the case. "That night I decided to do a little covert spying on the task force. I'd planted bugs before, but when we flushed out the mole, the offices were all swept and the bugs were discovered. Everyone assumed Peter Sawyer had placed them. The night they tried to kill you I put them back."

"Who do you suspect?" Joe asked.

"Hold that thought," Sam said as he inserted his earwig and motioned for the others to follow suit, even offering an extra one to Elan, who looked surprised.

"Hetty? Is the room clean?" Sam asked into comms.

"Completely, Sam," she replied.

"I forgot how sneaky you are Hetty," Elan said. "I wasn't gone that long."

"Your midnight dinner took exactly twenty-three minutes, Mr. Hand," she replied. "I suggest you bring a bag of snacks next time."

"Yes ma'am," he said, grinning at Joe.

"Now, Miss Jordan...let's hear what you have," Hetty instructed. "The nurses won't be disturbing us."

"I have begun to suspect that Guidry's inside man isn't really Guidry's at all," she said. "When you first went missing I assumed the informant had a low level job working for either Murphy of Homeland or under Overton in the counterterrorism section."

"Those are the two guys I met the first day," Sam said.

"They don't like you very much, by the way," she smiled brightly.

"Guess not if they tried to shoot him," Elan said dryly.

"Colin Murphy has been with Homeland Security since 9/11," she said, ignoring Elan. "He wears his patriotism on his sleeve. He gives no one any reason to believe he would betray his country, let alone agents in the field."

"He wanted to go a round or two with me after I accused them of being incompetent," Sam said. "Overton seemed reasonable though."

"That's what I thought too," she replied. "But he's had his problems with authority throughout his career."

"Are you saying you believe one of them betrayed us?" Joe spit out angrily.

"I considered it a possibility, because I think whoever it is doesn't work for Guidry, but for whoever is running things from Washington."

"Makes sense," Hetty interjected. "He'd have unlimited access to classified material and could operate out in the open without suspicion. The mole was a mid level analyst, but I suspect had no idea there was another traitor within the same task force. The right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing sort of thing. Rather old school and effective."

"So which one is it?" Joe asked, his jaw tight with anger.

"Wait..." Elan said. "Those men we captured at Roy's place...they said there was a man in a suit from New Orleans there the day Oscar was killed. One of them said you were cussing at him, Joe. Said he thought you knew him."

"I remember him," Joe said, a distant look in his eye. "I'd just gotten the shit beat out of me when he showed up. Guidry seemed trying to impress him. I'd never seen him do that before."

"Did you know him Joe?" Hetty asked quietly.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "But the bastard didn't bat an eye when Guidry set those dogs on Oscar. I called that sonofabitch every name in the book, but it didn't seem to bother him. None of it did...not even Oscar's screams."

"So it wasn't someone from the task force?" Sam asked, gently squeezing Joe's shoulder.

"I never met anyone from the task force accept Safa," he replied.

"We didn't want to take the chance," she said.

"And look how well that turned out," Elan growled.

"You assumed the mole was the only one you had to worry about," Hetty said. "So you outed your own undercover agent to catch him."

"At least that part worked," Sam said.

"Until it got a man killed," Elan said angrily. "And another almost run to ground."

"Who the hell are you anyway?" Safa snapped.

"This is my cousin Elan Hand," Joe said. "He's Arapaho, and an ex Army Ranger who can be a little overprotective."

"Looks like you could have used a little protection, Cuz," Elan replied, sounding surly and pissed. "You sure as hell weren't gettin' it from your so-called handler."

"Calm down, Mr. Hand," Hetty said sharply. "I agree mistakes have been made, but pointing fingers gets us nowhere. Now, Miss Jordan, who do you suspect our rat to be?"

"The whole task force was assembled so the director could inform us of Joe's supposed death," Safa said, still glaring at Elan. "And I watched them all for their reaction to the news. Thought it might give me an indication of who to concentrate on. Murphy looked pissed, even shoved Overton away when he tried to talk to him afterwards."

"And Overton?" Hetty asked.

"He seemed confused, as if he couldn't believe it, or didn't want to," Safa replied. "He's actually quite difficult to read."

"Any others?" Sam asked.

"I have an edited version on my tablet from the camera bugs I placed," she said. "Let's take a look at it together and see what you all think."

"Can you give our tech an access code so I can see the feed?" Hetty requested. "Mr. Beale make sure it's secure and immediately classified for my eyes only."

"On it," Eric chimed in.

The lull, while Eric did his thing, allowed Sam to assess how Joe was doing and he could see how exhausted he was. The bruises around his eyes had turned a sickly gray green, and every once in awhile his jaw would clinch as he rode out a spasm of pain. He was a tough man, but now his hands trembled with the effort it was taking to appear strong in front of everyone, and Sam admired him for that.

"I'm afraid for Marty and Callen, Sam," he said softly as the tablet was set up on his tray table. "I want this bastard, but I want them safe more."

"We all do," Sam said as Elan came over and gripped his cousin's shoulder.

The grainy black and white surveillance footage flashed on the screen. There were several edits with close ups on Overton and Murphy.

"Do you recognize either of them Mr. Atwood?" Hetty asked.

"No...neither one was at the camp," Joe said, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Damn it!"

"Looks like your theory may be wrong, Agent Jordan," Hetty remarked.

"Keep watching, Joe," Sam encouraged him. "Most of the members of the task force are in that room."

"I have sound on this part," Safa said, punching one of the keys. "The director gave quite a moving speech. It's from my button cam. I wanted to watch people's reactions to what he was saying."

They all listened to the heartfelt words as the camera panned the men and women of the task force. Most looked stunned when informed Joe Atwood wasn't a terrorist after all, but a heroic undercover agent who gave his life in the service of his country. The speech was quite elegant and Safa turned to catch the director on camera as he delivered his last lines.

"That's him..." Joe whispered. "That's the fucking sonofabitch."

"Director White?" Safa stuttered out. "Are you sure?"

"He watched Oscar torn to pieces without a single word."

"This is why this is a black op, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said curtly. "Watch your back, Sam. You too, Miss Jordan. I'm having Joe moved as soon as we're done here."

"I wasn't followed Hetty," Sam said.

"I believe you Mr. Hanna," she replied. "But they did try to kill you and they know you met with Safa and may be tracking her. If they followed her here, and discover Joe isn't dead, then he isn't safe and neither are either of you."

"No one's tracking me, Hetty," Safa insisted. "I check for bugs all the time. I'm good at my job."

"No one is questioning that my dear," Hetty said kindly. "But so are they. This is not some low level plot being carried out by crude militiamen, it's being run by an upper echelon intelligence organization with a political agenda. I'm afraid you may be compromised and I'm getting tired of seeing agents taken down by these bastards."

"What do you want me to do, Hetty?" Sam asked.

"Go see Harrison White. Offer your condolences on the loss of Mr. Atwood. See if you can get a read on him. Tell him you've been called back to Washington," she said. "And then get the hell out of New Orleans."

"What about Safa?" Sam asked. "If he suspects she's talking to me, she'll be in danger."

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself," Safa said confidently.

"There's something I don't get," Joe said. "Why try and kill Sam? Wouldn't that just shine a spotlight on the task force after everything that's gone down? What was the point? I mean, I know he's scary and all, but did the director panic all of a sudden? It doesn't make any sense."

"I agree Joe. But, the situation was volatile at the time," Hetty said. "Perhaps he felt his position as head of the task force was threatened. After all, Sam warned them all that he could have them reassigned to North Dakota, I believe it was."

"Callen always said you were intimidating, Sam," Elan laughed. "Don't tell him it almost got you killed."

"It would put a serious kink in their operation if White was removed," Safa said. "He can steer our operatives away from whatever target the terrorists are planning to hit."

"That would be the federal courthouse in Baton Rouge," Hetty said. "We're working on finding out when."

"How do you know that?" Safa demanded, looking quickly at Sam in total surprise.

"One of Guidry's lieutenants bragged about it to Mr. Deeks, one of my undercover agents," Hetty replied.

"You failed to mention that, Sam," Safa said stonily. "When are you people going to trust me?"

"I do trust you, Miss Jordan," Hetty said. "You work for me now, and you wouldn't if I didn't trust you. And I certainly wouldn't give you the name of my undercover operative."

"And here I thought you're reputation was a bit fantastical," Safa laughed.

"Oh, I'm quite real my dear," Hetty replied lightly. "I operate more on the dark side of fantasy's moon, which is the reason your boss has assigned you to my team. Just don't screw up."

"Not on my agenda, Miss Lange," Safa said formally. "I need to go back to work and see if I can track White's cell phone calls. It may give us some idea who is running the show in Washington."

"Check in with Nell Jones every four hours, Miss Jordan," Hetty ordered. "I know you two hit it off. She can assist you with whatever you need. If you miss a check-in expect to have company. As for you Joe…How does an afternoon flight to Wyoming sound?"

"Did the doctors say it was okay for him to travel?" Elan asked. "He's still running a fever and..."

"Don't worry, Mr. Hand," she soothed. "There will be trained medical personnel on board the private jet and a bed waiting for him in the hospital in Laramie. I believe your wife used to work there, Mr. Atwood. She'll be waiting for you both, as will your father."

"Thanks, Hetty," Joe said softly. "I'm looking forward to going home to the ranch."

"I can't go with you Joe," Elan said quietly. "Not with Marty and Callen still out there."

"I know. Wouldn't have it any other way, brother," Joe said, pulling Elan to him. "Make sure they get home, Elan. Promise me."

Elan said something in Arapaho that Joe seemed to understand, and the two men held onto each other until they could control their emotions. Sam wasn't surprised Elan was staying. He had made that decision at the racetrack and he would see it through to the end. He'd seen his devotion to Deeks, and that now extended to Callen, and it would certainly ease his mind to have the big Arapaho by his side if things turned deadly.

"Sam? Can you get Deeks a message for me?" Joe asked. "Tell him he's going to be an uncle again...and Callen too, if he wants to be...if you think they should know. I wouldn't want to distract them."

"I think they might appreciate a distraction like that, man," Sam said warmly. "Congratulations. And if it's a girl, Uncle G has been well trained by my daughter. Pink's his color. Just ask Hetty."

...

Neither one thought they'd have the stomach for supper after forcing themselves to watch two gators fight over Saint's body. Some of the men who had been on the platform with him the night before had cheered when he was finally dragged under water, at least when Guidry was watching. Callen had a feeling the man knew exactly who had done what to them, and if anyone could put the fear of the devil in them, it was Guidry. He had caught the man watching them both, and he'd warned Deeks to control his reactions to the grisly scene unfolding in front of them. He had acknowledged the warning before taking another deep swallow of the moonshine Addy had given him, his attitude worrying Callen. As they'd watched Saint's gruesome death, it was if the real Deeks disappeared completely into his alias and Jimmy Hale was angry and moody and drinking too much. After the show was over, he managed to drag him over to the barbecue pit, but Deeks took one look at the roasting pig and walked into the trees to throw up. When he came back, one of the men who had tormented him the night before decided to laugh at him. It was a very stupid thing to do.

Callen had forgotten how fast Deeks could move, his anger exploding at the mockery, and barreling into the man at full speed. The violence of the attack was stunning, and it silenced every man there, including Guidry. No one interfered, and Callen let it play out to see how Guidry would deal with it, knowing he'd been waiting to see what they'd do to the men who'd attacked them. A friend finally moved to pull Jimmy off, but Jake Hale cold cocked him to the ground, getting in a few vicious kicks that left the man breathless.

"Don't go killin' 'im now, Jimmy," Guidry finally said, motioning for a couple of men to pull him off. "He learn his lesson, mon fils."

Callen went cold when he heard what he'd called him, unsure whether it was a good thing or something to be concerned about. Deeks probably had no idea the man had just called him his son, but the men around him did, and he saw the subtle reaction to it in their eyes.

Deeks struggled free of the men who pulled him off, cursing them loudly as he shoved them away, until Guidry came up and patted him firmly on the cheek.

"That be enough, boy," he growled. "You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear ya," he said, spitting blood on the ground. "Bastard had it comin'."

"Y'all take care of your business on your own time," he said. "Now we need ta talk."

"Yessir," showing the obedience Guidry expected and surprising Callen at his control.

Callen put his hand on Deeks' chest before he could follow the man as he walked away. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Deeks asked, roughly pushing his hand away.

Guidry led them to a table at the edge of camp, where Tino and Pea joined them along with another man they didn't know. Addy brought them plates of roasted pork, and bowls of grits, which they both ignored. The others dug in despite the sweltering heat of the late afternoon and the ever-present mosquitoes. There was more whisky and moonshine, but Callen noticed that Deeks drank sparingly, and he was thankful for that. He'd assumed the kid had lost control, but now he wasn't sure and that surprised him. Deeks had matured a lot since they'd been undercover with the Aryan Knights. He was tougher and had endured so much. He'd come close to being broken, but had survived and fought his way back. He was good at this, and Callen was proud of him.

"Dis here is Prou," Guidry said as he sucked on a piece of pork. "He like ta shoot people, but he in da dog house now. Miss his target, den got hisself shot."

"Who was he tryin' ta kill?" Deeks asked.

"This their business, boss?" Prou asked, eyeing Jimmy and Jake suspiciously.

"Dis here boy got shot savin' my life," Guidry said. "You was shot runnin' ta save your own fuckin' ass."

"Told ya we shoulda blown the bastard up," Tino said.

"We gonna try dat next," Guidry nodded. "Good test for the PLX and C4."

"Who we talkin' about?" Callen asked, his chest tight and his gut roiling.

"Black bastard from de DOJ tryin' ta mess wid our plans," Guidry said. "Don't like being threatened, so we take 'im out."

"Found out where he's stayin' in New Orleans," Prou said.

"Good. We can fix up a nice little surprise for 'im in his car and fry 'im down to the bone," Tino laughed and the others joined in.

"Git goin' den. Git it done tonight," Guidry said as he heaped his plate with grits and a pile of roasted pork and waved for the men to leave.

Callen felt Deeks' fingers dig into his leg, but neither one outwardly reacted to what the men had said. Deeks took a long swallow of whiskey and shot a look of pure fear at Callen, who poured himself a much-needed drink. The fiery moonshine burned down his throat and his eyes watered, as he silently cursed himself for forgetting his earwig. He didn't think Deeks was on comms either and his raw fear for Sam made it hard to breathe.

"Had some experience with C4," Callen managed to say calmly. "I'd like to go along."

"Nah, Jake," Guidry said. "Dem two know what de doin'."

The sound of the outboard revving up made Callen feel sick. His hand curled unwittingly into a fist, but luckily Guidry didn't notice as he began a story about Prou and his exploits as a sniper in Iraq. The longer the story got the more lightheaded he felt, and he could feel Deeks practically vibrating beside him. They were soon surrounded by other militiamen, all of them looking to forget about the horrific death they had witness, drinking too much and laughing. There was no way to leave and he was sure neither one was on comms, so as the story went on, the angrier and more agitated he became. He had no idea how long it would take Tino and Prou to reach New Orleans, but it didn't stop his mind from filling with the horrible possibilities if they carried out their plan. He finally noticed that Deeks had begun to nod dramatically as if falling asleep, slumping noticeably over the table.

"Y'all had a rough day of it," Guidry finally said softly. "Take care of your baby brother, dere. He lookin' done beat after tearin' in ta 'ol Hugo. Go on now. Tomorrow come soon enough."

Callen tried not to look too relieved as he got up and pulled Deeks to his feet. He wanted to run back to the cabin, but Deeks wisely slowed him down, draping a weary arm across his shoulder and staggering slightly as if drunk, which for all Callen knew he was.

"You aren't on comms either are you," Deeks whispered as he slumped against him.

"No."

"Fuck!"

"Hey, Jimmy," Addy said, suddenly appearing in front of them. "Want some company?"

"Not unless you want to watch me throw up, darlin'," Deeks slurred out.

"Oh...I could bring ya my mama's recipe for a hangover," she said hopefully as they kept walking toward the cabin.

"He likes to suffer by himself when he's an idiot and drinks too much," Jake told her.

"I ain't no idiot," Jimmy snapped. "You just don't like to have no fun. I damn well earned a night of drinkin', brother."

Addy looked a little bewildered as they continued to argue, but she stayed with them until they reached the cabin. Callen wasn't sure how to get rid of the girl, unwilling to be too rude to the one person who'd been kind to them and who was an obvious spy for Guidry.

"You're just jealous, dickwad," Jimmy said as they pushed through the door.

"Jealous of what?" Jake asked.

"Mr. Guidry likes me better'n you," Jimmy said, grinning cockily as he stumbled and fell facedown on the bed.

"He's right about that," the girl said as she stood in the doorway. "Called him 'mon fils'. Ain't heard him call nobody his son before."

A deep, loud snore made Addy smile softly as she looked at Deeks' limp body sprawled across the bed.

"He's kinda special ain't he?" She said.

"He's kinda drunk is what he is," Jake snorted in derision. "Come back tomorrow Addy. He'll be better company. And thanks for your help today."

"Weren't nothin', Jake," she said shyly as she backed out. "See y'all in the mornin'."

Callen waited a couple of minutes and then rummaged for his earwig, turning around to see Deeks staring at him.

"What did that fuck call me?"

"Later, kid," Callen snapped, not wanting to deal with anything other than saving his partner's life. "Roy? Sam's in trouble."

...

...


	20. Chapter 20

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 20_

...

"Sam? Where the hell are you, man?"

Roy's voice was so loud and unexpected it made him fumble his chopsticks and drop the last spicy shrimp potsticker he was about to eat onto the table, where it immediately slid off onto the floor. Safa laughed when she saw him pull a grumpy face, but she read his instant attentiveness and quickly put in her own earwig.

"You owe me a potsticker," Sam replied, not bothering to suppress his irritation.

"Just tell me you ain't eatin' it in your car," he rushed out.

"I never eat in my car. Too messy. Why?"

"Cause it ain't long for this world, especially if you're in it," Roy said, his agitation calming slightly. "Callen gave me a heads up. Couple of Guidry's boys are plannin' to practice their bombing skills with you as the guinea pig."

"How'd they find you? I thought you changed hotels?" Safa said as she waved to the waiter for the check.

"I did. Rental car too," he replied as he threw cash on the table.

"Usin' the same alias?" Roy asked.

"Yeah," Sam acknowledged, embarrassed by his mistake.

"You really did piss them boys off," he replied. "They want your ass real bad."

"Obviously you can't got back to the hotel or the car," Safa said, scanning the streets as they walked out of the Moon Wok restaurant and melted into the late night crowd. "So you better stay at my place."

"Better hope it ain't Safa they're actually trackin'," Roy said quietly.

"You think I'd put down my real address when I got this job?" She snapped. "And no, I was not tailed on my way here."

"She always this touchy?" Roy asked.

"Usually," Sam said, constantly scanning the crowds as they cut down St. Ann Street toward the river. "But if they are tracking you, we better leave your car too."

"What's your cover story for not goin' back to your car and hotel tonight?" Roy asked. "Cause if you ain't dead by mornin' and you walk into Director White's office, ya better spin some sorta story and it better be a damn good one or Callen and the wiseass are blown.

"No problem. I'll take care of that," Safa said with a slow smile as she took Sam's arm and leaned seductively against him. "I know just who to whisper to about my latest whirlwind affair. It's been one hell of a ride, hasn't it dumpling? Couldn't let you fly home without one final roll in the hay."

"Dumpling?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows and then shaking his head in amusement.

"Embarrassin' nickname for a Navy SEAL," Roy cackled.

"You tell Callen or Deeks and I'll burn that plantation of yours down around your big ears."

"Now who's touchy?" Safa mewed.

"My ears ain't big," Roy huffed.

Safa led Sam on a meandering route to her place in the Marigny neighborhood, passing through bars and down alleyways. Occasionally they would stop for a drink and then follow whatever rowdy crowd spilled out into the street before slipping into the courtyard of the Soniat House behind two couples from California. They sat by the fountain of the upscale hotel for a good half hour, keeping an eye on anyone coming in and pretending to be entranced with one another, before leaving arm in arm.

By the time they reached her apartment in a renovated, three-story brick warehouse down by the river, they were convinced no one had followed them. Safa checked for her mail in a box in the foyer listed under a different name and Sam was reassured that she took her personal security seriously. After signing off with Roy for the night, they took the elevator up to the third floor and walked to the end of the hall to a brilliant red sliding barn door and he watched her check it for whatever detection device she had in place. When she turned to smile at him, he couldn't help but smile back as she unlocked and slid the door open on a spacious living space with large multi-paned windows that looked out over the Mississippi. Steel posts stretched up to the high ceiling, adding to the industrial look as did the lighting. The rough, pink brick walls retained their original white paint, now worn by time, the bottom half a pale green that picked up the color of the acid washed cement floor. Her furnishings were sparse, mostly leather, the modern tables a dark wood and the kitchen area completely stainless steel, with pale green concrete countertops. The woman had taste, and had to have money to be able to afford this place.

"Not exactly government issue," Sam commented.

"Is that another accusation?" She asked coldly.

"Just an observation."

"I rented it fully furnished, if that's what you're wondering. I didn't come here to be a decorator," she said, obviously annoyed.

"I wasn't implying anything. It just surprised me that's all," Sam replied, trying to placate her. "It's nice. I like it."

"The guest bedroom is down the hall. Bathroom too," she said, sounding tired. "And you can help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. Won't be much. I eat out most nights, but there's beer."

"What? No office with surveillance photos on the wall and maps with clandestine meeting places marked in red?" Sam asked with a soft smile.

"Of course. What kind of spy would I be if I didn't have the prerequisite hidden stalker room we see in all the movies," Safa replied, losing some of her surly attitude.

Having said that, she made no move to show it to him if she did indeed have one. He walked to the fridge, opening it to reveal a sparse landscape featuring a tub of Greek yogurt, eggs in a blue bowl, some takeout boxes and a six-pack of Belgian beer with two bottles left. He took the two of them, but she shook her head when he offered one to her. As he looked around the apartment, he was reminded of Callen again, only her place was bigger, with a better view and more furniture.

"My partner would like this place," he said as he walked over to the window to look out at the boats on the river. "No clutter."

"What are they like?" She asked as she dropped into one of the low-slung leather chairs. "The undercover agents. You all sound like family."

"Why do you want to know?" Sam asked, suddenly on guard and unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

"Just wondering if you're all too close for this to work," she said coolly, having picked up on his reticence. "Your Arapaho friend seemed ready to charge in and blow the whole case if anything happened to your friends. That makes me nervous, because he doesn't appear to be an agent or a cop."

"No need to worry. Callen and Deeks both know what they're doing," Sam replied defensively. "And Elan can handle himself."

"But they are close, aren't they?" she asked.

"They're brothers in arms. You have a problem with that?" he asked, trying to make her back off.

"It goes deeper than that, and deep emotions can get you in trouble real fast," she said. "They're a distraction and it makes decisions difficult if you're more worried about your partner than the mission."

"Is that what you think happened? That Joe made some mistake because he was worried about Oscar?"

"Possibly."

"What happened to Oscar was Harrison White's fault, and Guidry's, not Joe's," Sam said, irritated with her thinking.

"But you think it might be partially mine."

"No I don't," he told her, dropping down into the corner of the sofa.

"Good to know," she said, flashing a brief smile.

"You lose someone in the field?" He asked. "Is that what this is about?"

He saw a flicker of irritation, and then a tightening of her jaw and he wasn't sure she would be willing to reveal anything personal.

"Tell me a little more about Callen and Deeks and then I might be willing to share," she replied. "I'm either a part of this team or I'm not, and Hetty seems to want me on it."

"A Hetty threat," Sam smirked. "That swings both ways. By now she knows everything about you and the ops you've run, successful and not."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" She asked, her voice low and challenging.

"It should," he laughed. "She scared the hell out of me the first time I met her. She likes doing it, too."

"She does have a reputation to uphold," she replied. "But then, so do I."

"Mission before personal entanglements," he said softly. "That your mantra?"

"It's the only way any of us survive," she said, staring him down.

"Lonely way to live. Just ask my partner," Sam said. "He believed that for most of his career...hell...his whole life. Lone wolf type. Never got too close to anyone, except Hetty maybe. Kept me at arms length for a good long time until I saved his skinny ass because I didn't follow his orders."

"And now you're like brothers?" She asked rather derisively.

"Yeah, we are," he replied.

"What about him and Deeks?" She asked, as she slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet up under her. "Are they close?"

"This is really bothering you isn't it?" Sam asked softly.

"I might not know them, but I don't want to see them end up like Oscar," she said, staring out the window as she hugged herself.

"None of us want that," Sam said uneasily, the thought disturbing.

"How will each one handle it if something goes wrong?" She asked pointedly. "What will your partner do, if Guidry harms Deeks?"

Sam didn't answer at first, his mind sifting through the different ops that involved Deeks. He wasn't sure he wanted to share how out of control Callen had been after Jürgen got to Deeks a second time. It wasn't until the rushed flight to the ranch to try and save him that he'd realized how much Deeks meant to Callen. There had been bloodlust in his eyes when he lost control, reminding him of that day in Romania when they'd gone to get Hetty back from the Comescu family. He had shot down everyone in his way, and he had no doubt he would do the same if Deeks were in danger of losing his life.

"He'll kill them all without mercy," he answered honestly.

"With no regard for himself or for the mission?" She asked, her eyes piercing with intensity.

"If he sees no other way out...yes," Sam answered. "At that point the mission would be blown anyway. But that's the worse case scenario, and I'm hoping it doesn't come to that."

"And Deeks?"

"The reason I don't think it will come to a worse case scenario is that Callen is the consummate professional. Cool under duress and incredibly smart," Sam said easily. "And Deeks...Deeks can play a situation any which way at the drop of a hat. He can talk his way out of just about anything, except doing paperwork for Hetty."

"Even with a man like Guidry?"

"Deeks is a survivor," Sam said quietly. "Rough childhood...former undercover cop...tough missions...tortured by a man that makes Guidry pale by comparison...and Deeks survived it all."

"But it changed him..."

"Want to tell me what changed you?" Sam asked quietly. "You're a lone wolf like my partner. Why?"

"Got too close to someone on an op once," she said, abruptly standing and walking to the window. "Lost the target...blew the mission all because I tried to save her."

"What happened?"

"Lost her too...end of story."

"You'd gotten too close."

"I loved her," she replied bitterly.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, finally understanding.

"Let's just concentrate on this case and where we go from here," she said evenly.

"You mean like finding a way to keep me from getting blown up?" Sam asked.

"I say we make it a top priority," she said, turning to him with a weary smile.

He saw the relief in her eyes and the relaxation of her body. She'd shared more than he'd expected, her personal revelation more than he probably deserved to know. They had bridged a gap, and formed a level of trust they could work with, and his mind turned to figuring out a way his survival didn't get other people killed including G and Deeks.

"They were tracking your rental car," she reasoned as she walked toward a glass block wall with an opening by the windows.

"Probably," he replied as he got up to follow. "If they planted the bomb while we were in the restaurant, it couldn't be on a timer. No time to wire it to the ignition, so they had to be there, watching me so they could remote detonate it when I got in."

"Which leaves me wondering what their next move will be," she said as she turned on a light over a long desk, illuminating several computers and the prerequisite wall of photos and maps.

"Nice," Sam laughed. "You'd make a sexy Jane Bond."

"I figured you for a Bond geek," she said, smiling as she sat down in front of the computer. "Bet you have a hot car back in LA...probably black."

"Black Charger," he replied.

"Predictable."

"You're almost as annoying as Deeks," he sniped.

"I look forward to comparing notes," she replied smoothly, as Harrison White's picture popped up on her computer.

"Oh he'll love that," Sam laughed.

"Listen...I don't think you should meet with the director tomorrow," she said quietly. "Call him from the airport...just walk away."

"That would leave you vulnerable," he said. "They had to have seen us together."

"You're assuming they know who I am," she replied.

"Thought you said you were going to gossip about our date?"

"Changed my mind," she said.

"If they took pictures tonight and send them to White, you're in trouble and you know it," Sam insisted. "I say we walk right in the front door and flaunt it. I already made an appointment. If I don't show up...or if I just leave that rental car where it is...they might suspect I was tipped off about the threat and that puts Callen and Deeks in trouble too."

"What if they try and shoot you again?" She asked. "I was just starting to like you."

"Don't go gettin' all soft on me girl," he smiled. "That ain't you."

"Okay...but, what about the rental car?"

"No way they leave it wired if I don't come back," he reasoned. "And I don't think they'll keep up surveillance all night and into the morning."

"You're way too trusting," she said. "I'll have one of my assets check for the bomb before the sun comes up."

"What if they see him?"

"He looks like a homeless guy," she replied. "No way they make him if they're still watching."

"Deeks is gonna love this story," he said, nodding his agreement.

"Let's just hope White doesn't fire me for having a fling with a guy from the DOJ," she laughed.

"Might ruin your reputation and put a crimp in our intel gathering," Sam replied.

"It will definitely get me questioned," she said. "So you might want to worry about your own reputation, Dumpling."

"As long as you confirm to Director White that his position isn't in jeopardy," Sam replied. "You can sully Franklin S. Goodman's reputation any way you want."

"This should be fun."

"Unless they really do try and shoot me again."

"Spoilsport."

...

...

Joe woke from a restless sleep when the wheels locked into place as the plane prepared to land at the Laramie Regional Airport. His fever had risen during the flight and he was feeling uncomfortable and weak, drained by constantly fighting the onslaught of memories of snarling dogs and high-pitched screams. His time alone in the swamps of Louisiana never left his mind and he couldn't shake the feeling of desperation that still clung to him like the ever-present slime of algae. He had longed for home. It had kept him sane. It had kept him moving, searching for escape, for survival, anxious to see his family. When the plane finally came to a stop, he let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and trying to believe his long nightmare was over.

The medical personnel Hetty had onboard had been kind, but were starting to get on his nerves. He had welcomed the drugs though. They helped him manage the lingering pain in his arm and dulled his anxiety, but his concern for Deeks and Callen stalked his dreams and even though he was now awake, he found it hard not to fear for them. He forced himself to look out the window, the wide expanse of grasslands easing some of the turmoil that had been with him for so long. He felt a hand lightly touch his arm and looked up into the eyes of the co-pilot, who handed him a phone.

"Welcome home, Mr. Atwood. I hope you're feeling better," Hetty said softly. "However, I'm afraid there's been a slight change of plans."

Joe was jolted by the news, suddenly worried he wouldn't be allowed to stay here, but calmed down quickly as he listened to her explanation.

"I am probably being overly cautious, but I feel you deserve that," she went on. "I thought a bit of subterfuge was in order in case your wife and father were being tracked by these bastards. I arranged for another plane, which landed an hour ago. It was transporting a very elaborate casket and was greeted by George and Diane and an honor guard and taken to a local funeral home. I thought we should let this play all the way out, just to be safe."

"Thank you Hetty," he said with a knowing smile. "Do I get a twenty one gun salute too?"

"Not yet. We're saving it for the graveside service," she replied.

"God, I hope you're kidding," he said with a shiver.

"I'm hoping we don't have to take things quite that far," she laughed.

"Me too."

"After my little side show, I thought you might appreciate a couple of familiar faces to welcome your arrival, and help throw off any suspicion as to your identity," she said. "They got in last night and wanted to help."

Warm tears filled his eyes as he looked up to see Lily and Soldier come through the door of the plane. The boy looked deeply concerned, but Lily smiled encouragement as she leaned over and kissed him on both cheeks.

"It is so good to see you, mon chér," Lily whispered as she held his face. "Elan called...he said you were still running a fever. How are you feeling?"

"Alive," he responded softly.

"Soldier is very worried about you," she said, stepping aside so the boy could greet him.

He hadn't seen Elan's son since Christmas and he was looking forward to reconnecting with him. Soldier was just about to turn thirteen, and had lost some of his awkwardness, now moving as gracefully as his father. He hesitated as he approached, looking him over carefully, his dark turbulent eyes fixing on the heavy bandage and sling around his arm. Before he left the hospital, Elan had shared with him just how much his disappearance had upset the boy. There was an intensity about him now and he knew he would have to be honest with him, or lose some of the trust that had built up between them. The boy hated to be lied to and Joe had become too used to lies.

"Your hair's a lot longer," Joe said with a smile.

"Does it still hurt?" Soldier asked, ignoring the pleasantries as he was inclined to do.

"Yeah, it sure as hell does," he acknowledged.

"Will it get better?" He asked. "Will you be able to ride?"

"It's going to take awhile, kid," he said softly. "But soon as I'm able, I'm looking forward to getting up on a horse."

"Grandpa Jim's got an old mare you can ride," he said, his face softening with encouragement. "She won't be no trouble."

"I'm not that beat up," Joe snorted, wondering if he was denying the truth to make the kid feel better.

"You were gone a long time," Soldier said quietly. "I'm glad you're not dead."

"Me too, kid...me too," Joe forced out a laugh and the kid finally smiled a little.

"We brought you a wide brimmed cowboy hat," Lily said. "If someone is watching us it will hide most of your face. Can you walk on your own?"

He nodded, appreciating her no-nonsense attention to detail. She was a beautiful woman, kind and understanding, especially with Soldier, and sometimes he had to remind himself she was French Intelligence. Elan was a damn lucky man. She was undoubtedly armed, although in the tight bluejeans and form fitting peach colored tee shirt she wore, he had no idea where she was keeping her gun. She smiled as he looked at her, reading him easily.

"It's in my boot, mom ami," she said, smiling softly as she handed him a gray Stetson.

The two EMTs helped him get on his feet, but Soldier stepped up to steady him.

"Papa told me to take care of you," the boy said, looking very possessive as he pushed between the two doctors. "You can lean on me."

"Thanks," Joe replied, finally letting himself relax as he wrapped his arm around the kid's shoulder. "You're almost as tall as I am."

"Mimi loved cooking for him," Lily said. "He has grown to love French food, especially the apple tarts she makes. I think he grew a few inches while he was in Normandy."

"Hear you can speak a little French," Joe said as they stood at the top of the stairs of the jet.

"Seulement in peu, Uncle Joe," Soldier said with his first real smile of the day.

"Show off," Joe teased.

When they made it down to the tarmac, an SUV pulled up and he turned to shake hands with the two men who had attended him on the flight. He hadn't been a very good patient and he apologized for that. When he was finally settled in the back of the car, Soldier jumped in beside him and Lily rode shotgun, literally, and although he had no idea who the man was driving, he felt safe and the sting of sudden tears surprised him.

"Do we have to go to the hospital?" He asked. "Can't I just go home to the ranch?"

"Hetty wants you to get checked out by the medical staff first," the unknown driver said firmly.

"You know Hetty?" He asked.

"He is one of Hetty's independent contractors," Lily said. "But, I vetted him myself."

"If you have to spend the night, I'll find a way to sneak your wife and father into the hospital," the man assured him.

"Do you have a name?" Joe asked, wary of the man and not bothering to sound civil.

"You can call me Billy," he said. "And you can trust me. I got your back, man."

"I'm assuming you owe Hetty for something," he said wearily, growing tired of the game.

"Nothing you have to worry about," he replied. "Just take it easy and let me do my job."

"Okay," Joe said, finding he really didn't give a shit who this fucker was.

He found he was tired of all of it...the aliases...the classified information you had to protect with your life...the constant vigilance...being alone and far from the people he loved. He had been proud to serve his country, but he'd been doing this for a very long time and he was exhausted and incredibly pissed off. Maybe he was done with the FBI. Maybe it was time to be with his family instead of saving everyone else's...to be there when his second child was born, not off on a some mission like he was when Chris was born.

"Want me to tell you about the horses?" Soldier asked quietly, seeming to sense his melancholy.

"Yeah, kid...and the dogs too," Joe said, leaning against the boy as he began to talk.

Soldier's voice was soothing, his knowledge of horses making him smile, knowing how much his father and uncle must love teaching such a willing student. The ranch was a special place to grow up and Soldier had taken all of it to his heart. He talked of riding Deeks' mare Sheila and helping George train her foal Ruthie, who had turned into a beautiful bay filly with white stockings and a thin blaze of white down her face. The boy lit up when he spoke of his own horse Sarge, a wildly patterned brown and white paint the boy swore could beat any horse on the ranch in a race.

It all sounded so familiar and comforting as he listened to a story about how the older dogs, Toby and Stinker had banded together to ward off the playful antics of the younger ones, Deeks' Boo and Soldier's rescue dog, a black greyhound he'd named Angel. The more he talked the more Joe longed to be there, to forget all the days he had lived with fear and pain, to worry only about making sure his wife was taking care of herself and teaching his own young son about life on a ranch. He wanted to hold him in front of him as he rode down to the creek, to hear him giggle with little boy joy as a trout leaped out of the water, to hold his wife close and feel the new life she was carrying. He couldn't wait to experience the solitude of the place, with people he loved and who loved him in return. He didn't want to wait. He wanted his life back and he wanted it now.

"Take me to the ranch," he demanded.

"Those are not my orders, man," Billy responded.

"You think I give a flying fuck about your orders?" Snapping out his irritation without regret. "I don't work for Hetty and I'm sure as hell not taking orders from you, whatever the fuck your name is. Now, take me to the ranch or stop the car and get the hell out."

"I'll take it from here, Billy," Lily said calmly, putting her hand on the man's arm. "Hetty will understand."

The man only hesitated for a moment, stopping the car and getting out, instantly pulling his phone as Lily walked around and got in the driver's seat. She caught Joe's eye in the rearview mirror and smiled softly before gunning the engine and tearing back into traffic.

"Hold on, Uncle Joe. She drives like a crazy person," Soldier laughed as if they were on a great adventure.

He simply smiled and then turned to watch the passing landscape, the waving grasses now yellow from the summer sun. The subtle movement of the car as Lily roared up Snowy Range Road lulled him and he finally allowed himself to slide into a restful sleep, waking occasionally whenever Lily cussed out another driver in French, always getting a snort of laughter from Soldier, who obviously understood. He was happy she had chosen the long way, and stayed awake when they climbed up into the mountains above Centennial. There was still snow on the high peaks and he found he was excited to see them again, the aromatic smell of the forestland refreshing after his time slogging through bayous. The high winding road rocked him back to sleep and he didn't wake until they were headed into Saratoga.

"Would you mind if we stop for a minute? We've been on the road almost two hours," Lily asked.

"How fast were you going? I've never made that drive under two and a half hours," he said as she pulled up in front of Lovejoy's Bar and Grill.

"There was no traffic, mon ami," she shrugged as she got out. "You forget, I drive in Paris."

"Don't ever ride with her in Paris, Uncle Joe," Soldier whispered.

"I'll just wait here. Not exactly dressed for being out in public," he said, looking down at the blue hospital scrubs he was wearing.

"Want me to bring you a piece of pie?" Soldier asked. "Mrs. Lovejoy always brings us one of her daughter's pies when she comes to see Grandpa George. They're real good."

"Kate Lovejoy?" Joe asked, with a spreading smile. "Isn't that the breeder Dad got Boo from?"

"She enjoys your father's company," Lily said with a knowing smirk. "They are very sweet together."

"I'll be damned," Joe laughed. "I've been away too long."

"Yes you have, mon chér," Lily said gently. "Now rest. We will be right back."

He'd forgotten what a nice little town Saratoga was. He and his brother Christopher had spent a lot of nights in the cafes and bars here when they were young, meeting friends and trying to pick up girls. It had been a good place to grow up. Small and homey, where everybody knew everyone. It was a good place to raise a family and he wondered what it would be like to do that, to live here again, to be a normal person, free of the fear you wouldn't come home after a long day. Maybe it was time. Maybe being at the ranch would give him time to think and to talk with his family about it. He was tired of pretending to be someone else, exhausted by the need to pretend he was as depraved as the men he sought to bring to justice. He wasn't sure he could do it any longer...wasn't sure he wanted to.

His head was spinning by the time Lily and Soldier returned, but he couldn't help but smile at the huge slice of pie the boy eagerly presented to him. He hadn't really been hungry, but the smell of tart rhubarb and sweet strawberries made him change his mind. Soldier held the paper plate as he ate, listening to him talk about Normandy while he savored the pie, relaxing as they headed out of town on Little Jack Creek Road. Familiar landmarks whipped past, reminding him of simpler times, giving him a sense that this was where he belonged. By the time they turned off onto the ranch road he was becoming anxious to see Diane and little Chris. With Lily driving he didn't have to wait long, the fences rushing past and the tops of the cottonwoods around the barn coming into view. He was excited when he saw the house and the horses lining the fence, his heart beginning to pound, unaware that he was crying.

"Are you okay Uncle Joe?" Soldier asked, lightly gripping his shoulder.

"Yeah...I am now," he choked out. "It hasn't changed a bit."

Lily honked as she slowed and came to a stop in the driveway. Boo and Angel bayed as they jumped down from the porch to greet them, followed by the older dogs, Stinker limping slightly and Toby, the cattle dog taking a little longer to get down the steps. All of them milled around his legs when he got out and he reached down to greet them, happier than he'd been in a couple of months.

"Son?" George called out as he slammed out of the door and hurried to his side. "Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?"

His father wrapped him in a far gentler hug than was normal for him, but he cherished it nonetheless. Uncle Jim appeared and silently gripped his shoulder, his solid presence such a familiar comfort.

"Joe?" Diane stood frozen on the porch, while his son wiggled free of her arms and tottered down the stairs, and he knelt to pull the little boy close.

"Daddy," Chris giggled happily. "Daddy home."

...

...


	21. Chapter 21

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 21_

...

It was hot and he was antsy. The sweltering heat clung to him like a second skin, one he longed to shed, to be free of it, as he wanted to be free of this place and these men. His anger had been at a simmering boil ever since he'd heard Guidry had called him son. Where the fuck did that come from? And yet he had to play the part. He had to be the type of person who would relish the attention of a man like Guidry. He was Jimmy Hale, an ignorant, arrogant and violent young man who reacted without thinking. He enjoyed chaos, believed in anarchy, and the only one able to control him somewhat was his brother. He'd had no father in his life; no stability and now a man he supposedly admired had called him son. Had it been a slip of the tongue? Would a man like Guidry let his guard down and welcome someone like Jimmy into his life? Why? Did he also have a deep-seated need for family? It was confusing and incredibly disturbing and he wasn't sure he could go that deep into his alias. He sure as hell didn't want to. To become close with such a violent man was all too familiar and he shuddered as it played with his mind.

Callen, a man who rarely slept through the night, was now snoring loudly, lying facedown with both arms tucked tightly to his chest, his body as compact and unyielding as when he was awake. Callen had suffered just as he had at the hands of Saint and his buddies and needed the rest to recover, but Deeks wanted nothing more than to wake him. He desperately needed to talk, or he wasn't sure what he would do. The feeling that he was about to explode was building and he moved silently toward the open doorway.

The sound of voices made him step back inside, wary of another attack. When he heard them laugh, he relaxed a little until he saw them. Two men staggered side by side down toward the winding bayou, passing a fifth of whiskey between one another. The wiry one had on the same khaki tank top he'd worn on the platform last night. He'd made jokes about his hair while banging his head into the post he was tied to, over and over until he'd blacked out. Deeks remembered his giggle. The hefty one had smelled bad, his hands heavily callused and strong, breathing through his mouth as he'd choked him and whispered questions about his manhood.

He felt like Jimmy Hale and didn't bother to pull himself back as raw rage clouded his thoughts, and whatever self-control he'd had quickly disappeared. His skin was prickly in the smothering heat of the night as he reached for the gun lying on the rickety table against the wall. He knew he shouldn't kill them, but a fervent need to retaliate urged him on and he slipped unnoticed out into the dark. He found it hard to breathe as he followed them, swallowing obsessively as he tried to control his rage. It came to him that whatever he did, Guidry would be proud of him, and that stunning thought gave him pause and he reached out to steady himself against a tree. He and Callen had talked about this. The Hale brothers would be expected to retaliate. It was part of their cover. They were mean, violent men, no different than the militiamen who surrounded them, but the thought of Guidry praising him, made him want to puke. Dark memories surfaced and he fought against them, but they only stoked his anger and he started after the men once again.

He smelled him just before a rock solid forearm wrapped around his throat. He reacted instantly, slipping free and turning to slash the barrel of his gun across the side of the man's head. He went down hard, but before Deeks could do anything else the wiry man tackled him to the ground. Deeks roared out his anger and lost all control, fighting as he had as a kid on the streets of LA. He held nothing back, kicking and gouging until the man scrambled away, cussing him out loudly before limping away and disappearing into the darkness. He'd lost track of the hefty man and was hit from behind, staggering as the man slammed him into the trunk of a large tree. The air left his lungs and bright spots flickered behind his eyes. The man yanked him around to face him and he tried to prepare himself for the punch, but it never came.

"Don't...or I'll shoot you where you stand," Callen's voice was deep and cold as he shoved the barrel of his weapon into the base of the big man's skull. "You had your fun last night, asshole. You come anywhere near my brother or me after this and you're dead."

"Guidry'll have your ass if ya do that," the man said shakily.

"I'm only gonna warn you once," Callen replied. "Tattle to Guidry all you want, you chickenshit, but you ain't gettin' away with what you done."

The man's nostrils flared with indignation and a hint of fear as he stumbled and tried to get away. Jimmy took advantage, hitting him as hard as he could, breaking his nose, and Jake slammed the butt of his gun down on the back of his head, sending him senseless to the ground. The two brothers stood silently over the man as the crickets resumed their nightly song.

"We need to talk, Jimmy," Callen finally said as he reached for him.

Jimmy Hale wanted none of it and slapped his hand away, heading away from the cabin and down toward the bank of the slow moving bayou. He heard Callen follow, and he knew they were going to get into it, but he held no regret for his actions. He stopped at the edge of the black water, numbly staring at the slimy patches of algae floating like glowing green clouds on the surface. The hollow sound of bullfrogs and intermittent calls from some unknown bird filled him with homesickness and he felt his alias fade a little.

"Don't do that, brother," Callen said softly. "Don't make me tell Sam you went off on your own. You know how he gets."

"Grammy Sammy, the pissed off Navy SEAL," Deeks whispered. "Glad Roy let us know he's okay."

Callen's hand felt cool on the back of his neck and he let out a long breath, slowly coming back to himself as they stood side by side. He'd expected Callen to castigate him, but somehow he knew that wasn't what he needed right now, and he was grateful that he understood.

"Guidry's not your father, kid," Callen said softly. "But you might have to pretend he is."

"The scary part is...he's damn close," he choked out "Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue."

"Or maybe he's just drawn to your charming personality," Callen snarked.

"Yeah, right," whispering with a hint of a smile.

"You saved his life," Callen said. "I think that surprised him. He leads by fear, but what you did was an unselfish act. You didn't do it out of fear. He might believe you did it because you care about him, and that is probably something he hasn't experienced in a long time."

"Hard to believe someone like that is even capable of those kinds of feelings," Deeks replied.

"He must have been human once."

"Not sure about that," Deeks said, cocking his head at the thought. "And I'm not sure I can act like a son to him, G."

"Jimmy can."

"That's what scares me," he said softly.

"You got a little lost in Jimmy tonight is all," Callen said gently.

"If I'm going to pretend to care about that bastard, I'll need to lose myself in Jimmy," he replied, feeling agitated again and slightly afraid. "And he's starting to remind me of Max Gentry, only with a lot less control."

"You're not alone here, brother," Callen reminded him. "I'll pull you back when I think you've gone too far down the rabbit hole. This is not gonna end up like your time with the Aryan Knights."

"If it does you'll have to deal with Kensi," Deeks shivered.

"And Sam."

"And the whole Atwood family," Deeks said with a cocky grin. "Especially Elan."

"I'm more afraid of George than Elan," Callen smirked.

Just saying their names helped him come back to himself, to shed his alias for a brief period, and he dropped his head as Callen ruffled his hair.

"You can do this Deeks," Callen said close to his ear, his arm draped across his shoulder.

Callen's confidence was comforting, and once again he was glad he wasn't here alone to deal with it all. His thoughts were fragmented now, jumping between memories of his real father to Jacob Meier of the Aryan Knights, who wanted him to follow in his footsteps, and Wilhelm Jürgen, the patricidal maniac who had almost taken his life, finally circling around to the one man who knew what real fatherly love was. George Atwood. He didn't deserve to be in the same conversation with any of those men. He was a good man, a truly good soul, and he wondered what he would say if he knew how close to evil he was once again.

"Come on kid, let's get back before some gator decides we look like a tasty midnight snack."

Deeks shivered dramatically, making Callen laugh and they headed back, on sure footing once again. The big militiaman lay where they'd left him, and Deeks wondered if violence was becoming too familiar to him, a solution too easily used. This time they'd had no choice, but it worried him nonetheless and his mind slid back to his childhood. His earliest memories were of his mother's screams and his own, his father's anger stark and terrifying, something not to be aroused. Even as a child he'd tried to use humor to deflect that anger, but it rarely worked. By the time he shot his father he'd progressed to physically fighting back, leaving him black and blue and angry. Now it was the loneliness he recalled from his early childhood, that feeling of isolation from the two people he should have been closest to. His father had been lost to him from the beginning, but it was the growing distance from his mother that had hurt the most. It was only after his father was gone that they rediscovered their love, so tentative at first, but eventually bringing them both joy and a new sense of what family life could be, even if it didn't last long.

Guidry reminded him of his father, but much more calculating and devious. His father had been a loner for the most part, and held iron control over his family. But as far as he knew, he never sought to control others with his violence, not that he didn't use it if someone ticked him off. Guidry was different. He had no family that they knew of, and got off on controlling everyone around him, with the grandiose dream of using violence as a way to acquire even more power over a government he had no respect for. Why the man was interested in him, he had no idea. He didn't seem like the kind of person who would want to share his deepest thoughts. He seemed inherently distrustful and the more he thought about it, the more it made no sense.

"Heads up," Callen murmured.

Four men were waiting for them as they reached the cabin, one being the wiry man Deeks had kicked the shit out of. They both pulled their guns, ready to defend themselves, but Guidry walked out of their cabin and said something harshly in Cajun and the men backed away.

"Skeeter tell me you jump 'im and Giff. Dat so?" Guidry asked.

"They jumped me first," Deeks said evenly. "Wasn't tied up this time, so me and Jake kicked their butts."

"Where's Giff?" Skeeter demanded.

"Sleepin'," Jake said, moving his gun to the front of his leg. "He's a little soft in the head."

"You sonofabitch..." Skeeter said and started toward them.

He stopped as both leveled their guns at him, the others raising theirs, but looking to Guidry for how to respond.

"Tell me how you want this to end, boss," Jake said. "He can let it be or I can shoot him. Don't like lookin' over my shoulder every day."

"We got serious business to be takin' care of," Guidry said. "So this here ends right now. Got dat, Skeeter? Jake? Jimmy?"

Skeeter looked pissed, but he nodded and waited until Jake and Jimmy lowered their weapons

"'Bout daybreak," Guidry said. "Y'all go on now, 'cept for Jimmy. You come on wid me, boy. We get us some grits and biscuits. Have us a little talk."

Deeks couldn't stop himself from looking over at Callen, who forced out a smile and slapped him on the back. He read the warning and concern, but he also saw the encouragement. They both knew he had no choice, so he secured his gun behind his back and nodded at Guidry, using a shy smile to cover his reluctance.

"Let me grab a tee shirt, boss," he said, quickly following Callen inside.

As he pulled on a dark green shirt, Callen sneaked him his earwig, blocking the doorway as he snugged it into his ear. He felt better now that someone would be listening, waiting there to talk him past his uncertainty if he faltered. When he looked up, Callen's intense gaze greeted him, and he was suddenly flooded with a warmth of feelings for the man. He grinned cockily at him and saw a slow smile spread across his face.

"See ya, brother," Deeks said softly as he brushed past.

"Save me a biscuit, dumbass," he replied, the familiar nickname reminding him why they were here.

There was a hint of pale light as he walked by Guidry's side down toward the camp. There were a few men stirring and most of those had gathered by the cookhouse where the smell of boudin hovered. A long wooden table held platters of the spicy sausage and heaping bowls of grits. Pans of hot biscuits made his stomach growl and Guidry laugh. He hid his distaste as best he could, allowing Jimmy Hale to crawl back out. He would do this for Joe and for the friend his brother had lost.

"Hey, Jimmy," Addy called out as she walked out of the cookhouse with two jars of honey.

"Hey darlin'," Jimmy replied with a cocky grin. "Don't you look pretty this mornin'."

"You surely are a charmer, boy," Guidry said as he plopped large spoonfuls of grits on his tin plate, then slathering it with butter.

Jimmy tore away a couple of biscuits and took a small scoop of grits, piling the boudin on top. He was hungry, but the grits made him slightly nauseous and he frowned, making Addy giggle.

"Want some honey on them biscuits?" She asked.

"Sure would, sweet thing," he replied. "And a cup of coffee if you don't mind."

"If you two is done dancin' round each other, we got stuff ta talk about," Guidry snapped. "Go on back ta work now, girl. This don't concern you."

Jimmy felt the sudden tension and saw Addy shudder at the rebuke, so he smiled at her. She looked grateful as she handed him a steaming cup of black coffee, but then turned abruptly and hurried back into the cookhouse.

"Women ain't nothin' but a distraction, boy," Guidry said as he headed for an isolated table under the canopy of a large tree. "Ain't good for much, 'cept cookin' and fuckin'."

Deeks flushed with the sudden need to argue with the man, to call him on his ignorance and then realized he would be treading on dangerous ground if he did. He reminded himself to ask, "What would Jimmy Hale do?"...and for some reason that made him laugh. Jimmy Hale is an ignorant little fuck being treated to a private breakfast with the head honcho, and would gobble up anything this crazy bastard had to say.

"Guess you're right, boss. She sure is a cute little bitch though," he finally said, cringing as a word he hated came out of his mouth.

"Cain't argue wid that," Guidry replied with a disturbing smile and began shoveling grits into his mouth.

"No sir."

They ate in silence, and Deeks struggled to settle into his alias, to judge this man as Jimmy might. He had no idea what he wanted to talk to him about, and hoped Callen was listening. He was nervous around the man, and realized he was trying to protect himself instead of welcoming the attention as his alias would. He was in a position to get valuable information, and all he had to do was pretend he was enjoying himself, and express his appreciation for being singled out. He recalled some of the ways he used to try and get close to his real father when he was little. He'd wanted his attention back then, before his response was a backhanded slap in the face. Early on he would fetch whatever his dad wanted, thrilled when he got a smile out of him. That's who he had to be now, a lonely little boy craving attention from the man with power over his life.

"Can I getcha a cup of coffee, boss?"

"Sure thing, mon fils," Guidry said, looking surprised, but pleased.

"How you take it, sir?"

"Little milk."

He moved quickly as if it was the most important job he had to do, and saw Guidry watching him as he hurried back, his eyes assessing him.

"Shoulda asked if you wanted another biscuit or two," Jimmy said as he placed the tin cup in front of him.

"What yore daddy like, boy?" Guidry asked softly.

"He's dead," he replied, wondering what story he should tell if he asked for more.

"When?"

"I was seven," Jimmy answered softly, staring down into his own lukewarm coffee.

"He killed or just passed?" Guidry's voice softened and Deeks tried to remember the intel he'd read about this man's childhood.

"Cops shot 'im," he said, sounding uncomfortable as he related his backstory.

"What he do?"

"Nothin' worth killin' a man over...the fuckers," he said angrily.

"Tell me, boy."

"Jake told me the bank was gonna take our house, so daddy tried to rob one to get the money to stop 'em. Failed like usual. Jake never thought he was very smart," he said, letting his raw anger show and the hurt of a small boy. "We didn't have nothin' after that. Bank took the house and we woulda lost the car if we hadn't run. Ended up in Idaho. Stayed in shelters till mama got sick."

"What happened to ya mama?" He asked, actually sounding interested.

"Took up with some guy that beat the shit outa her," he said without emotion. "When the bastard started in on me, Jake shot 'im and we ran again. She died in the back of the car somewhere in Montana."

"How old were ya, mon fils?"

"Eight. Jake was fourteen," he answered. "Don't know what we woulda done if we hadn't stumbled into the camp of a militia group. Good folks. Took us in...fed us..."

"Jake your only family?"

"Yeah...we got nobody else," he ventured, looking hopefully at the man.

"Ya do now, mon fils," Guidry said. "Dis is Da Brotherhood, boy. You part of it now."

"Appreciate it, sir," he replied shyly. "You got family around here?"

"All gone," he said, as he tore open a biscuit and began to butter it. "Lived wid a woman some time ago, but she weren't worth a damn. One day just up and left. Took my son wid her. If I ever do see that bitch I'll feed 'er to the gators a little bit at a time."

"That's real shitty, boss," Jimmy said, sounding heartfelt. "Had a friend that happened to. Finally found his son in New Mexico. Took 'im back home with him. So you never know. You might just find him someday."

Guidry stared at him for a long time, and Deeks wasn't sure what he saw in his eyes, but his face softened slightly as he slowly ate his biscuit.

"You good ta have around, mon fils," he finally said.

"Good to be here, boss," he said with a smile. "We're happy to do whatever you need us to."

"You 'member that there doctor dat stitch ya up?" He asked after awhile. "And dat sorry excuse for a man dat ya saved along side me?"

"Dr. Mouton and his son-in-law Elliot," he said eagerly.

"Gonna be meetin' wid dem and some other fellas today," Guidry revealed. "Want ya ta come on along. Watch my back."

"Okay," he replied. "Can Jake come too? He's got good sense about people. Not sure I trust that doctor or Elliot. Kinda flaky."

"You sure right 'bout dat," Guidry laughed. "Go git dat brother of yours and be down by de boats in an hour."

"Yes sir!" He replied enthusiastically, pleased they were being trusted and relieved to get away from the man even briefly.

"I'll be damn, kid," Roy laughed softly in his ear. "Hell of a story. You're in good now. We'll all be listenin'. Might be the break we need."

"Watch yourself, Cuz. You too, G."

Elan's voice was soft and full of concern, and his heart slowed its pounding as he listened to him tell about Joe's return to the ranch. That he was safe now, away from all this and out of Guidry's reach helped to ease some of the turmoil he was experiencing, but not all. He knew that until all of the people involved in this plot were behind bars, their plans exposed and thwarted, that none of them were safe. They couldn't let their guard down now. That had happened before, and the bleak winter landscape of that mistake flashed unwanted into his mind, chilling him in the rising heat.

"You did good, brother," Callen whispered on comms, cutting through the sudden flashbacks.

Unable to reply, he started walking faster, needing to see his face so he could still the voices in his head and stall the onrush of memories. He suddenly feared for Joe and for all of his family at the ranch. Questions roared through his mind. What if they hadn't been fooled by Joe's fake death? What if they had followed him to Wyoming? His mind was turbulent and his stomach rebelled at the small amount of food he'd eaten.

He tried to fight what was happening to him, the familiar onslaught of a panic attack making him unsteady and pissed. They had haunted him for months after his kidnapping and Jürgen's death, but he hadn't suffered one in a long time. He wanted to curse out loud, to find a way to forestall the debilitating effects that would leave him weak and unable to function. That couldn't happen. Not now. Not here.

"Jimmy?" Callen spoke the name before he realized he was beside him.

He wiped at the sweat stinging his eyes and saw the look of recognition on his brother's face, and he reached for him. Callen quickly gripped his arm, turning with him as they headed back up to the cabin. He could hear Roy and Elan in his ear, but it didn't calm him. It was all just white noise, adding to his now roaring panic. He jumped when Callen slammed the door behind them, closing them in together in the dim, confined space. He heard him tell the others to shut up, and that made him smile briefly.

"I'm right here, Deeks. You're not alone," he whispered, as he pushed him down on the bed. "You're safe. Talk to me."

"Jürgen," he managed to choke out. "He found me at the ranch..."

"Who the fuck is that?" Roy asked, but was quickly cut off by Elan, who snapped out what sounded like a rebuke in Arapaho.

"You're afraid for Joe," Callen said, sitting down beside him and gently placing a hand on his back.

"He's afraid for all of them," Elan said. "And now, so am I."

"Jürgen wasn't fooled...so, what if these bastards weren't either?" Deeks asked, trying desperately to still his twitching fingers.

"Hetty's plan was pretty damn convincin', kid," Roy said quietly.

"Who's watching out for them if she's wrong again?" He felt Callen stiffen as the accusation hit home.

"I don't know what knocked you sideways kid, but before this goes too far, let me talk to Hetty," Roy said reasonably. "We'll figure something out. Y'all are too close to figuring out who's behind all this to get rattled now. Can ya do that, son?"

"Don't call me that, you fuckin' dickwad," Deeks growled out angrily, close to losing complete control until Callen gripped down hard on his shoulder.

"Get her on comms, now," Callen ordered. "We need to settle this before we go to that meeting with Guidry."

Deeks saw the guilt on Callen's face and he was instantly sorry for bringing it all back. It had taken a long time to convince him that he didn't blame them for what Jürgen did to him at the ranch, and now it all came flooding back.

"I'm sorry, G," he said softly. "I shouldn't have said that. I don't blame you. You know that."

"It was my idea, not Hetty's," Callen said. "Jürgen almost killed you in that field and I'll never forgive myself for that."

"But I have, brother," Deeks said, finally feeling calm as he tried to assure him.

"I understand your concern, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said in his ear. "What can we do to ease your mind?"

"Find some way to protect them all," he demanded. "Elan told me Lily is there, but she's the only one with any training."

"I can't just send a tactical squad to surround the place. It will have to fit the scenario we created," Hetty reasoned.

"What if the Doucet family went on up there for Joe's supposed funeral?" Roy suggested. "They're chompin' at the bit to do somethin', and them being there wouldn't arouse suspicion."

"It makes sense," Hetty acknowledged.

"Would they go?" Callen asked.

"In a heartbeat," Elan assured them.

"All them boys is tough sonsofbitches and they'd do anything to protect Joe," Roy replied. "All we have to do is ask."

"That sound good to you, Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked.

"How many of them are there?"

"Oscar's five brothers. A bunch of cousins I ain't never sorted out, and three ornery as shit uncles," Roy replied.

"Soldier will take to Uncle Louie," Elan laughed. "He's a horseman."

"You met them? Right, Elan?" Deeks asked. "Can they handle themselves?"

"They buried their youngest, Marty," he replied. "They're all still mad as hell. They'll be hoping someone tries something, and if anyone comes for Joe, they're gonna run into a firestorm."

"Good to know," he said, his heartbeat returning to normal as his mind began to clear.

Hetty signed off and Roy did the same as he was designated to recruit Gus Doucet and his family as bodyguards once again. Deeks ran a hand through his long hair, finally believing his family would be protected, but he felt as if he'd lost something with Callen. He'd reminded him of a terrible time and a painful mistake and his response worried him. He couldn't help but notice the reticence in his body language as he moved around the cabin. They needed to trust each other, and now was not the time to pull away.

"I shouldn't have panicked," he said tentatively.

"You were right," Callen breathed out.

"Are we good?" He asked nervously.

"Not sure. Are we?" Callen sounded disheartened and it hurt Deeks to hear that in his voice.

"You're my brother. Nothing will ever change that," he said earnestly. "I'm sure as hell not gonna let that sonofabitch Jürgen come between us. That's in the past. Leave it there, okay? We got enough to deal with without dragging his carcass around with us."

"He's right, Cuz," Elan said quietly. "He's nothing but dried bones scattered to the far winds. Let your memories follow."

"Didn't know you could be so poetic," Deeks replied with a wide smile.

"I'm Arapaho. We are a visionary people," he replied.

"In my neck of the woods, we call that glorified bullshit," Roy drawled out softly as Elan muttered something in his native tongue. "Doucets are in. Hetty will have nine of 'em on a plane and in the air in a couple of hours."

"Thank them for us, man," Deeks said.

"I ain't talkin' to you, smart ass," Roy said. "You called me a dickwad again, and a fuckin' one at that."

"Sorry. Thought you'd embraced that nickname," Deeks replied, a smile flickering. "Never figured you for the sensitive type."

"You can be an annoying little fuck," Roy snapped back.

"We all have our scars. Some don't completely heal," Callen said distantly.

"Maybe if one of y'all shared what the hell set your little brother off I won't step in that shit again," Roy replied evenly.

"That would be up to Deeks," Elan said.

"Tell him whatever you want Elan, just not so I can hear it," Deeks replied, staring at Callen as he tried to figure out how to repair the breach between them.

Callen checked his gun, but still avoided looking at him, so Deeks decided words wouldn't do it and took a lesson from George, stepping up and pulling him into a brotherly hug. He felt him resist, but he didn't let him go until he felt a soft slap on the back.

"You still trust me?" Callen asked quietly.

"Always, big brother. Always."

...

...


	22. Chapter 22

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 22_

...

Callen wished he hadn't eaten so much boudin and grits before they left, the myriad twists and turns of the bayous they'd been following for the last three hours making him nauseous. It reminded him of riding with Kensi, although he certainly would enjoy her company more than Guidry's and Tino. The two men didn't talk much, but he had been able to overhear some of their conversation and it had eased his mind. The Hale brothers were trusted completely now. Even Tino sounded respectful when he spoke of how he and Jimmy had dealt with two of the men who had joined Saint in torturing them. These men respected toughness, and Guidry spoke proudly of Jimmy's attitude, and once again retold the story of how he saved his life. It had definitely surprised him, and his face would soften whenever he looked at his brother, who was snoring loudly in the bow of the boat.

He tried not to think about Deeks' panic attack or the harsh reminder of his own devastating mistake. The kid had been right and now he no longer had to worry about Joe and his family, or be wary that Deeks might lose focus during the upcoming meeting. It was going to be hard on him to pretend to welcome Guidry's attention, but he had confidence that he could do it. From the few stories he'd shared about his childhood, and the violence he'd grown up with, he knew he hated the idea of being close to a man who reminded him of it all. He also knew how capable Deeks was at hiding his true feelings when he needed to or simply wanted to.

The hug he had given him before they left the cabin had helped them both, but for Callen it had overcome the fear of rejection he always carried. Deeks' assurance that he would always trust him had solidified the bond between them that he had come to cherish. He would have been completely desolate if Deeks hadn't reassured him that he didn't hold his mistake against him, and still loved him as a brother. He found such comfort in their relationship and never tired of hearing the kid call him brother. It made him smile even now.

"Wake dat boy up, Jake. We on Bayou Plaquemine now," Guidry called out. "Be at Mouton's place in a bit. Today y'all git ta meet de big boys. Dey full of demselves, but dey got de big money and de big ideas. But, don't y'all forget...we be de real patriots...we de soldiers dat make it all happen. Dey cain't do nothin' widout us."

Deeks jerked awake when he touched him, his eyes full of distrust and his fists up and ready to fight. Guidry thought it funny and laughed, something neither of them had ever heard him do. It sounded weird and slightly disturbing. Deeks looked sheepish when he saw everyone had eyes on him, and groaned as he sat up, looking around to get his bearings.

"We're coming up to the doc's place," Jake said. "Try not to flirt with his wife."

"You never want me to have no fun, bro," Jimmy pouted and then broke into a wiseass grin and Guidry slapped Tino across the chest as if was the greatest thing he'd ever heard.

They had both fought hard and endured a lot to be accepted by this maniac and now that they had been it had knocked him off his game a bit. He was still adjusting to the change, working on just how to play it, and gave Deeks a look that expressed his indecisiveness. He was unwilling to let his guard down in spite of their new status, worried he would become sloppy and make a mistake that might cost them. Deeks turned and sat next to him, both of them looking up the bayou as more and more houses came into view. When the kid pounded his fist down softly on his leg and smiled his cocky grin he realized Deeks understood his uncertainty, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, "go with it". The kid had always been able to switch gears in an instant, to fly by the seat of his pants as Hetty always called it, and he realized it was what they had to do. Things were different now, and it gave them an advantage they needed to use. Callen nodded at his brother and rolled his shoulders, stretching out the kinks as he adjusted his attitude to the new reality, focusing on the meeting to come.

As they rounded a bend, they passed a rusting dredger tied up to the far bank and it was a stark contrast to Mouton's sleek, white cabin cruiser floating pristinely just up ahead. He could see the man waiting for them on the dock, his arms crossed over his chest, and Callen wondered once again how the man had gotten tied up with Guidry and The Brotherhood. There was no wave of welcome and as they pulled up to the dock, the man's face turned down into a frown. Callen was the first man out, and was studiously ignored. Deeks jumped out and quickly tied up the boat before turning toward the man.

"Wanna check my stitches, Doc?" Jimmy asked lightly, lifting the edge of his tee shirt.

"I'm not the least bit interested in you or your brother," he replied and then put his hand up as if to ward them off. "Good God you stink. They're not getting on my boat, Guidry. Not smelling like that."

"You think I stink too, couyon?" Guidry snarled, as he put a hand on Jimmy's shoulder.

"No, but those two smell like shit and I won't have it," he said, his voice wavering only slightly. "My friends from Washington won't appreciate it either, and I'm assuming you want to keep them happy. They can shower in the pool house."

"Go on you two," Guidry finally said, glowering at the doctor. "Go on up dere so y'all can smell pretty for de fine gentlemen. Dey delicate."

"Guess it's been awhile," Jake conceded. "Come on little brother. Maybe we can take a swim in the pool afterwards."

"Don't you dare," Mouton huffed out.

"Watch you mouth, Doc," Guidry said softly as he took a step toward the man. "If dese boys wanna swim, dey gonna have it. Understand?"

The man flinched, his resentment obvious, but he nodded his agreement and Callen found a rather perverse enjoyment in watching the doctor back down. He shot a look at Deeks, who's eyes narrowed briefly at the put down, but a smile flickered at the edge of his mouth before he turned and walked off the dock. He quickly joined him and threw an arm across his shoulders as they headed up toward the pool. Their change in circumstance was almost jarring, but the thought of a hot shower sounded so blissful he discounted what he was feeling, jogging after Deeks as he took off and raced ahead to be the first one in the pool house. The inside was very clean and elegant, the walls painted a creamy white, the room set up with comfy looking outdoor furniture of bamboo and pale yellow striped cushions. They looked at each other and smiled, checking to see if they could be seen from the dock, finally relaxing when they realized they were out of everyone's sight. There had been no need to race, as there were two shower stalls with spicy smelling soap and a bottle of shampoo in each one. They stood silently in front, both stunned by their good fortune, Callen finally giving his brother a nudge as he removed his earwig and Deeks nodded and did the same. They both set their weapons on the small white table between the stalls before turning their full attention to the unexpected benefit awaiting them.

"Sweet. I think we've died and gone to heaven," Deeks murmured before he turned on the hot water.

"Wish we had our go bags," Callen replied. "Fresh clothes would be nice."

Callen had to smile as Deeks immediately kicked off his shoes and socks and stripped, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor. He groaned with pleasure as the hot water cascaded over his head and body and Callen shook his head at his boyish joy. Following his lead, he hung his clothes on the hook provided, and stepped into the stall next to him, the powerful spray of hot water exhilarating. Rivulets of dirty water sluffed off the smell that had clung to him for days, and he inhaled the scent of the soap before he energetically began washing himself, raising his face to let the water beat down on him.

"This shampoo reminds me of Kens," Deeks said softly through the wall. "Wonder how she's doing?

"Don't go there, kid," Callen warned.

"Yeah, no...you're right," he replied. "Just hard not to think of her right now...being naked in a hot shower..."

"I really don't want to picture that, brother," Callen interrupted quickly.

"Too much information?" Deeks laughed.

"Not the time or the place," he reminded him.

"Still...I'd rather think of her than Guidry," his voice soft and reflective.

"He might not even recognize you when your hair gets all fluffy," Callen snarked, trying to lighten the conversation.

"Look who's talking," he replied. "That bath mat you call hair makes you look like the woolly mammoth in Ice Age."

"The cartoon?" Callen laughed. "Wait till I tell Sam."

"I watched it at his house with Kamran," Deeks revealed. "It was date night."

"You still baby sit for him?"

"Babysitting may be the closest I ever get to kids," he replied softly.

"Stop it, Jimmy. We can't have this conversation," Jake warned sharply, snapping them both back to the needed mindset.

They became silent once again as they luxuriated in the first hot shower they'd had since hooking up with The Brotherhood. He could only imagine how they must have smelled, so he really didn't blame the doctor and was actually grateful he had demanded they shower. It made him feel human again, and eased his aching muscles and the painful bruising. It felt so normal, and had caused Deeks' mind to wander back to the one person he cared about and missed the most. Callen wished they could have a conversation about what he knew was bothering him, but it was too great a distraction, too far from the reality they were living now. Those two were meant to be together, and he hated to see them at odds, but he couldn't allow the focus to be on anything other than this assignment. It was too dangerous and he hoped Deeks understood that.

"Think the doc would mind if we swim naked?" Deeks asked with a giggle as he turned off the water and shoved the shower curtain aside.

"Guess we'll find out," Callen replied as he stepped out, pleased that Deeks seemed over his momentary lapse in concentration.

He scanned the myriad array of darkening bruises that colored Deeks' torso, but he didn't seem to notice, his eyes staring longingly at the blue water of the pool. His hair was a tangled mess, it's true color finally shining out from the dull muddiness it had been before. He looked happy, and favored him with a cocky grin and upraised eyebrows before turning and running toward the pool, whooping out a yell as he spread his arms wide and leaped with wild abandon into the deep end.

Callen thought it best not to follow. It would leave them vulnerable, so he calmly dried himself off before snugging in his earwig. As he dressed he watched Deeks swim the length of the pool with powerful strokes, and he was happy for him. He needed the break and being in the water always seemed to calm him. When he walked out to the poolside, Guidry and Tino were standing off to the side watching. Guidry had an odd look on his face as he watched him swim, seeming melancholy and almost human.

"Let's go Jimmy. Boss is waitin'," Jake called out.

Deeks stopped to tread water in the middle of the pool, his smile open and honest. "Sorry, Boss. Ain't never been in a pool like this."

"Be on de boat in ten minutes, mon fils," Guidry huffed out and then turned quickly away and headed back down to the dock.

"We good?" Jake asked Tino as he stood watching Deeks. "Boss ain't mad at the kid is he?"

"Shit no. Your brother's his new pet," Tino said mockingly. "Just tell 'im not to push his luck. He set his dogs on his last favorite. And he was Cajun."

It was if someone had thrown ice water in his face as images of Oscar Doucet flashed into his mind, the warmth of the shower now lost as Tino snorted out a laugh and followed Guidry. Callen was shaken, and sucked in a shallow breath, walking quickly back into the pool house, checking his weapon as he softly called to Roy over comms.

"You there?" He asked breathlessly.

"It's me, G," Sam replied and Callen let out a long sigh.

"Good to hear your voice, man," he replied. "You good?"

"Out of harm's way, partner," Sam said. "I've been listening. Sounds like you're both in pretty deep."

"Not sure if that's good or bad," he replied, his attitude toughening as he spoke.

"It's good if we can end this thing," he said, his confidence something Callen needed to hear. "Don't worry about Deeks. He can handle himself. Just get the names of the men from Washington. We'll attack these bastards from both ends."

"Glad they didn't blow you up," Callen replied, feeling a bit better with Sam's voice in his ear. "How'd it go this morning?"

"Walked in with my arm around Safa for the whole task force to see," Sam bragged. "Apologized to White for doubting his handling of the task force and told him my report would recommend he stay exactly where he is. Told him he was the right man for the job, and he swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. Safa dropped me at my rental car. It didn't blow up and I wasn't followed. Roy picked me up at the airport and now I'm here at his house eating beignets and drinking coffee."

Deeks came in dripping wet with a questioning look on his face. Callen mouthed out Sam's name and tapped his ear, and Deeks quickly toweled off and got dressed. He smiled when he snugged in his earwig to catch the tail end of Sam's comments, all the while securing his weapons.

"I had to eat grits," he finally told Sam. "What's a beignet?"

"It's like a big square donut covered in powdered sugar," Sam replied. "Yummy."

"Sounds like something Kensi would love," Deeks said wistfully. "How is she?"

"Deeks..." Callen whispered.

"She's fine Deeks. She's staying at our house," Sam told him. "And Michelle is making sure she gets plenty of donuts."

"We gotta go, Jimmy Hale," Jake said gruffly. "Boss is waitin'."

"On it," he replied, ruffling his damp hair as they both turned to leave.

"Leave it behind, brother," Callen said quietly as they approached the boat.

"Fuck you, Jake," Jimmy said with a cocky grin, as he grabbed a railing and leaped on board the sleek boat.

Callen followed, assured that Deeks had settled back into his alias. He put on the sour facial expression Jake usually wore and took a look around. The boat was lavishly styled and Mouton had a crew on board that quickly got them underway. He could see Elliot Dale, Mouton's son-in-law trying to schmooze Guidry in the main cabin, but Tino blocked his way, telling them both to go up top. The big cabin cruiser vibrated with power as it cruised along the bayou and Callen joined Deeks in the seating area in front of the bridge, and again he got a feeling of normalcy, as if this were a simple day on the water instead of a meeting with the heads of a terrorist organization. He had no idea where they were headed, so he settled back into the comfortable seat and decided to enjoy himself. Deeks, however was antsy as usual, and bounced up to his feet after only ten minutes, unable to remain in one place. He brushed past him with a grin and sidled up to the man driving the boat and Callen smiled as he waited to hear what he was up to.

"Hey, man. I'm Jimmy," he said. "Can I call you Captain Sparrow?"

"Do I look like Johnny Depp?" the man answered easily.

"Maybe...if you put on a long wig, wear a bandana and some eye make-up," Jimmy replied with a grin.

"I prefer Captain Flint on Black Sails," he replied. "Great series. Ever watch it?"

"Naw, man, never heard of it," Jimmy said.

"It's a TV series," he replied.

"Ain't got a TV," Jimmy said wistfully.

"Too bad, dude. It's awesome," the young man replied. "I'm Charley Boyce."

"So where we headin', Captain Charley?" Jimmy asked.

"As close to the Mississippi without actually entering it," he replied with a laugh. "You look disappointed."

"Read Huck Finn when I was a kid," Jimmy said.

"Didn't we all, dude," Charley replied. "But down here, the river is fast and chock full of commercial traffic...long barges linked together...tough to get around and no safe place to anchor."

"Then why we going there?" Jimmy asked, sounding confused.

"Have permission to dock just before we hit the big river," Charley replied. "You'll be able to see it though."

"What's there...where were dockin'?"

"Nothin' much. Just some chemical plants and crude oil storage facilities. It's just across the river from Baton Rouge," he replied as he increased his speed. "Meeting another boat there that came up from Lake Pontchartrain. Bigwigs from Washington."

"You met 'em?"

"Couple times," he said, with a slight brag to his tone. "Head honcho is way up there in the Department of Justice. Then there's a guy from the FBI, a lady lawyer that has something to do with taxes, and some dude from the DEA. None of them the friendly type."

"Don't go tellin' that to just anybody," Jimmy cautioned. "That would be a dumb move, buddy."

"What'd you say you do for the doctor?" Charley asked, sounding nervous all of a sudden.

"Don't work for 'im. I work for Antoine Guidry," Jimmy replied. "You know who that is?"

"Yeah, I know," Charley said quietly. "You armed?"

"'Course I am, Charley," he laughed. "But hell, I ain't gonna shoot ya or nothin'. We're part of the same pirate crew and you're the fuckin' captain."

Charley didn't say anything after that and Jimmy Hale slapped him on the shoulder and came back to sit down next to his brother. Callen could only shake his head at his ability to get someone to reveal information.

"We got all that, Deeks," Sam said into comms. "Now all we need are names."

It was a little over an hour before they spotted the dock up ahead and the big yacht tied up next to it. There were three men in dark suits and sunglasses waiting on the dock and Callen could easily see that they were armed and on comms, so there was somebody else out of sight and watching. They were definitely mercenaries and probably former military. He and Deeks were the last ones off and they quickly caught up with Guidry and Tino who lagged behind Mouton and Elliot. As they reached the small gangplank to board, two of the armed guards stepped in front of them.

"Afraid you gentlemen will have to stay outside," one said firmly, putting his hand on Jake's chest.

"Dey wid me and dey ain't gentlemen," Guidry said, his anger dark and volatile.

"Take your hand off me, man, or I'll break it," Jake warned evenly.

The other guard started to reach inside his jacket and Jimmy had his weapon out and in his face in a split second.

"You heard my brother. Hands off."

"I knew these two would be trouble," Mouton whined with irritation.

"Dey not de trouble," Guidry said sharply.

"Is there a problem gentlemen?"

The pleasant voice came from one of the upper decks and everyone turned to look. Everything about the man was gray. His hair was a dark silver, as was his neatly trimmed beard, and he wore a pale grey silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up over light gray slacks. He was holding a drink and on his wrist was a Rolex Callen knew to be one of the most expensive watches in the world, thanks to Hetty. The man was tall and pale and exuded power, but Callen sensed his irritation, even though he was trying very hard not to show it.

"Sorry sir," one of the guards said. "Don't like the look of these two."

"You ain't in charge, couyon," Guidry growled, his jaw flexing in anger.

"That would be me, Mr. Guidry," the gray man said easily, with just the slightest hint of a smile.

"Dese boys is mine," Guidry said. "Dey go where I go. Dey don't come aboard, I go on back home and y'all can use dese here couyons ta do y'all's dirty work."

"That sounds like an ultimatum," the gray man replied stiffly. "I don't like ultimatums or your tone."

"Bet ya don't like gettin' your hands dirty neither," Guidry sneered. "Dese here boys got no problem wid dat. Dis one save my life. His brother killed de bastard tried ta shoot me and Elliot. You always talkin' 'bout loyalty and sacrifice. Dat what dese two is all about. Man like you need men like dese."

"That was quite elegantly put for you, Guidry," his condescension irritating even to Callen.

"Still don't like their looks, sir," said the obvious leader of the mercs.

"Fuck, man. I washed my hair and privates just for this meetin'," Jimmy grinned cockily. "And I think I look and smell pretty damn good."

Callen was surprised when the gray man let out a soft laugh, breaking the tension.

"Welcome aboard gentlemen," he finally said before turning to go inside.

The three mercs stood aside and Jimmy secured his gun and smiled smugly at the leader as he followed Guidry inside. In the course of his career, Callen had been on expensive yachts before, had even destroyed one once on an op for Hetty, but this one was impressive. It was like being in a stylish apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, everything expensive, the atmosphere warm and the furniture cushy, the dark teak smooth and elegant. It offered the privacy this clandestine meeting needed, and Callen had no doubt that it was bugged and surreptitiously checked for security cameras. As they filed into the main cabin, two men and an older, attractive woman paused their conversation and looked decidedly uncomfortable as Guidry walked in. He made them nervous, but they controlled their facial expressions, putting on false smiles of welcome. The Brotherhood was just a means to an end for these people, and they thought of Guidry as a necessary evil, unwilling to admit their own warped morality.

There was an awkward moment as the two groups sized each other up, but it ended when the gray man came in.

"Can I offer you a scotch, Mr. Guidry?" He asked. "Or perhaps a beer would be more to your taste."

Callen was surprised when the man himself went to the bar to pour the drinks, and he could see that the others were as well. They all looked like rich people on holiday, one even wearing a Hawaiian shirt over peach colored linen cargo shorts straight out of the Tommy Bahama catalog.

"Whiskey," Guidry growled, quite aware he was being talked down to and he sure as hell didn't like it.

"And your men?"

"Dey speak for demselves," he replied.

"Beer for me," Tino said, his eyes narrowing, a sure sign he was pissed.

"Me too," Callen added.

"Always wanted ta try brandy," Jimmy said. "Saw a picture of a bottle in a magazine once. You got any of that?"

"Didn't figure you for expensive tastes," Pierce said, unable to keep from smiling, however condescending he sounded.

"Probably the only chance I'll ever get ta try it," Jimmy said, sounding melancholy as he sauntered over to the bar.

"Would you like it heated?" Pierce asked, smirking at his lack of sophistication.

"You kiddin' me? It's a hundred degrees out there," Jimmy replied as if he were crazy.

"Point taken," Pierce replied as he swirled the amber liquid in a huge snifter before handing it to him. "I await your judgment, young man."

Jimmy took an overly big swallow, playing the part of the ignorant gunman he was supposed to be, and everyone watched him do it. Callen smiled inwardly as his act took over the room, his raw and innocent charm easing the tension.

"Damn...that's good," he declared softly. "Thanks, sir. Appreciate your kindness."

His comment showed manners and subservience, and Callen saw a shift in the man's expression. He was surprised and caught off guard, but he covered it almost immediately.

"Let's start with introductions, shall we? Why don't you tell us a little about yourselves, gentlemen? I like to judge a man's character myself," He said, staring long and hard at Callen and Deeks.

"Name's Jake Hale. Descendant of Nathan Hale," Callen said coolly. "I'm a patriot and proud to be a member of The Brotherhood. I ain't afraid of nothin' or nobody."

"Jimmy Hale," Deeks chimed in. "My brother and me wanna make a difference in this country. Oh yeah, and I can shoot the eye out of a turkey in full flight."

"I wasn't aware turkeys could fly," the man responded lightly.

"Sure you ain't," Jimmy laughed. "Bet you ain't never had to kill somethin' for supper."

"No I haven't. I hire people to do that for me," he said. "Like you."

"Like to know the name of the man I'm 'spose to kill for," Jake said, growing irritated by his superior attitude.

"I'm Newton J. Pierce. Everyone here answers to me, and that includes you two."

"Mr. Guidry's our boss," Jimmy said, sounding a little more confrontational than Callen was comfortable with and he heard Sam caution him over comms.

"Told ya dey be loyal," Guidry said, slapping Jimmy on the back. "But dey do what I tell 'im."

"Then make sure they follow the orders I give you," Pierce said coldly.

"You got dese boys' names. Now who dese other folks?" Guidry asked. "Gotta know the people we 'spose ta trust."

"Of course. You've already met Harrison White of the New Orleans task force," Pierce said, taking a sip of scotch from a crystal tumbler. "The man dressed as if it's casual Friday is Jacob Pensky, head of the Operations Division of the DEA, and last, but certainly not least, is the lovely Jacqueline Bennet, Deputy Assistant Attorney General, Tax Division of the DOJ, the hardest ass here."

"Watch your mouth, Newton," her voice prickly and tinged with contempt. "My ass long ceased to be any of your business."

Callen saw the beginning of a smile on Deeks' face and so did she. Raising one eyebrow, she tried to stare him down as if he was a cockroach, but he simply cocked his head at her and continued to smile.

"Thought this was a strategy session, Newton," the woman said, finally looking away from Deeks. "I'm not interested in spending any more time than necessary in this godforsaken place."

"Dis be God's country, lady," Guidry said, surprising Callen with the sentiment.

"Not for long," Harrison White said, his words slurring as he took another swallow of whatever he was drinking.

"What you mean by dat?" Guidry snapped.

"Gentlemen...and Ms. Bennet...we're getting ahead of ourselves," Pierce said forcefully. "Let's have lunch before Harrison slides under the table. Then we can take care of planning the final stages of our operation."

He didn't wait for an answer, simply strode out to the back deck where a buffet had been set up. Deeks started to follow, but Jacqueline Bennet stepped forward to stop him, placing the tip of her finger on his chin, her long, well manicured and brightly painted nail touching his bottom lip.

"You can take your cute little ass and eat in the galley, along with your brother and the rest of the help," she said. "Our conversation will undoubtedly be over your head."

"You think my ass is cute?" Jimmy smirked.

"I don't do cute," she said, running her finger across his bottom lip before turning and walking away.

"Don't!" Callen warned him as he opened his mouth for a retort.

"What?"

"She's definitely not your type, Jimmy," Callen replied.

"She's scary," Deeks said, shivering dramatically.

"Let's go find the galley and maybe take a little tour on our way, brother," Callen said quietly, pulling him toward the bow of the boat.

As they made their way behind the dark teak wall behind the bar, they noticed a winding set of stairs going down.

"I'm the dumb one...I'll go," Deeks said. "If anybody asks, just tell them I'm looking for the bathroom."

"It's called the head," Callen reminded him.

"I'm dumb as a rock, ain't I?" He grinned and headed down the stairs, with Callen right behind him.

They quickly poked their noses into the cracked open door of the room at the base of the stairs. It was an office, the desk choked with several computers, one with security feeds from all over the boat. Callen informed Sam what they'd discovered while Deeks sat down in front of one of the computers and found it had been left unsecured.

"Aren't these people supposed to be in the intelligence field?" He asked as he began opening files.

"Sam? Get Eric on the line. Tell him we're sending him an email from this computer. Tell him to backtrack it and get whatever he can and then wipe our trail," Callen spoke quickly.

"Will do," Sam replied. "Now get the hell out of there before someone comes back and I have to fish your dead bodies out of the Mississippi."

"He might want to erase any security footage that shows we've been down here," Deeks suggested.

"You're smarter than you look, little brother."

"Don't tell Jacqueline. She'll be disappointed," Deeks said, flashing a grin.

"Send that email to Eric, and let's move," Callen ordered as he got up and headed for the stairs.

"Keep a lookout. I gotta pee," Deeks said as he hit the send button and followed Callen into the hall.

"Kensi was right. You do pee a lot," Callen said. "Shhh...somebody's coming."

At the first sound of a step on the stairs above, Callen shoved Deeks into the small bathroom and quickly pulled the door closed. By the time the shapely leg of Jacqueline Bennet came into view, he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" She demanded.

"You told us to eat in the galley," Callen said evenly. "Ain't sure what that is, so we went lookin' for it."

"Where's your brother?" She asked, looking suspiciously into the office.

The sound of flushing diverted her attention as the door to the bathroom opened, and Deeks came out smiling, slowly zipping up his pants.

"You miss me?" He asked.

"Don't be stupid..." she replied, sounding flustered before she gathered herself. "You're beneath me you idiot."

"Sounds good to me," Deeks replied with a cocky grin as Callen grabbed his arm and pushed him up the stairs.

"Let's go little brother," Callen growled. "Sorry, ma'am...he can't help himself around women."

"Never met a man who could," she said nastily. "You're all pricks."

"Sounds like you got the experience to know what you're talkin' about," Callen replied.

"What the hell are you implying?" Her face flush with anger and too much alcohol.

"You're the one with the brains," he replied coolly. "We're just the dumb help, lookin' for lunch."

Callen heard Sam say his name sharply as he headed up the stairs, but he wasn't sorry for his comments, the woman's arrogance rubbing him the wrong way. He should have felt closer to these people than to The Brotherhood, but he didn't and that was just a little bit scary.

...

...


	23. Chapter 23

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 23_

...

Roy made the mistake of warning them about staying in their aliases, and Callen spit out a couple of pointed swear words he didn't normally use. His outburst was surprising. He'd been mostly quiet during lunch and now that they were outside on the bow alone, Deeks thought they might have a chance to discuss things, but he'd remained aloof and silent. The curses were some of the few words he'd uttered since they'd run into Jacqueline Bennet below decks.

"What got you so pissed off?" Roy asked.

"Don't especially like the company I'm currently keeping," Callen breathed out.

"Come on...you love me...right?" Deeks asked with a grin, hoping he could ease him out of his foul mood.

"These people have everything they could possibly need," Callen said, barely above a whisper. "They're obviously wealthy, have a certain amount of power...what more do they want?"

"For some people it's never enough," Sam said over comms. "You know that G."

Callen said nothing, just continued to stare out at the broad Mississippi River and the sprawling city of Baton Rouge beyond it.

"These people aren't altruistic. They don't care about anybody but themselves," he finally said. "They didn't act like patriots either. Pierce gave no inspirational speech about coming together to make this a better country. Unless I'm reading them all completely wrong, none of this tracks."

"You don't like 'em," Deeks said.

"No, I don't," he replied. "But, I've got the feeling there's something more going on here."

"You ain't even heard their plans yet," Roy said. "Little soon for conclusions don't ya think?"

"Maybe."

"Or maybe not," Deeks said. "Did seem a little odd how much they were drinking. Harrison White was close to being shitfaced."

"Go with your gut...both of you," Sam encouraged. "Eric and Nell are gathering intel on all of them, but only you can get a read on the type of people they are. And don't antagonize them. These are not stupid people."

"You sure about that? I think that lady might be lookin' ta do a little slummin' with our boy here," Roy sniped.

"No...no no. Not gonna happen," Deeks said, grinning nervously. "She looks like she could hurt me and enjoy doing it."

Callen finally smiled at that and Deeks was pleased to see him lighten up even if it was at his expense. His brother's insight had opened his eyes to something he hadn't picked up on at all, and it was disconcerting.

"I'll follow your lead, brother," he said quietly.

"Just watch yourself, kid."

"'Specially your cute ass," Roy snarked.

The sound of footfalls on the deck caught their attention and they turned to see Tino headed their way.

"I been lookin' all over for you two," Tino growled. "Guidry wants y'all."

"Let me ask you something, man," Jake said, not moving. "You trust these people?"

"I don't trust nobody," the man said, lowering his voice as he moved closer. "But I know what ya mean."

"Don't seem all that dedicated to the cause," Jake persisted, letting his distrust show.

"Guidry's feelin' a little uneasy too," Tino said, looking around as if to make sure no one was listening. "Wants you two close by."

"He expectin' trouble?" Jimmy asked quickly.

"Not sure what ta expect from these assholes," Tino hissed out. "Don't like being treated like some mangy dog."

"Me and Jimmy got your back, man," Jake told him firmly.

Tino nodded, clapping Jake on the shoulder before motioning for them to follow. The two shared a look behind his back, and Deeks felt the first tingling of unease, his adrenaline starting to pump as they made their way down to the main cabin. A drop down screen covered the dark teak wall behind the bar and everyone was focused intently on it as they entered. Pierce looked irritated by the interruption, and Jacqueline Bennet stared at Deeks, her calculating expression a little unnerving. He found it hard to look away, and a small smirk curled her lips as she crossed her long legs.

"Those two have to be here?" Pensky asked abruptly.

"Dey none of your business, couyon," Guidry said, a menacing tone to his voice that the man didn't appear to appreciate.

"Everything about this meeting is my business," Pensky said coldly. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"Calm down Jacob," Pierce said testily. "If Mr. Guidry feels more comfortable surrounded by his men, then we will accept that. These men are the ones who will make this happen."

"Are you sure they're competent enough to carry out something this complex?" Jacqueline asked.

"You just tell us when them men is gonna be dere, and we'll blow dere asses up," Guidry said, his jaw tightly clinched in familiar anger at her disparaging remark.

Deeks turned to look at the screen and his stomach dropped. He looked quickly over at Callen, whose face was a rigid mask, but his eyes held a warning. The Hale brothers wouldn't know the men whose pictures partially obscured a map of downtown Baton Rouge. Deeks relaxed his features, showing interest and curiosity, but feigning ignorance of their identities.

"Who are those guys?" He asked innocently.

"You don't watch C-Span do you?" Jacqueline mocked. "And I'm going to assume you don't read The Washington Post or the New York Times. Not sure you can even read, so probably no magazines either."

"Stole a copy of 'Guns& Ammo' from a convenience store once," he laughed. "That counts, don't it?"

"Not in the least," she replied, sounding bored.

"Dat fella on de left is de fuckin' Attorney General of dese here United States," Guidry stated. "Don't know de other fella."

"That would be the Deputy Attorney General," Pierce said. "They will both be at the federal courthouse in Baton Rouge for a ceremony next week. Your job Mr. Guidry, is to blow the building with them in it. And please make sure they don't survive.

"You don't gotta tell me how ta carry out a mission, couyon," Guidry snarled, but Pierce seemed unfazed by his surly attitude.

"It will be Elliot's job to make it appear as if the attack was carried out by foreign terrorists," Pierce continued. "While the government and the media are wringing their hands and chasing their tails, I will undoubtedly be asked to temporarily assume the office of the Attorney General."

"Power and control. Your favorite things, Newton...after money," Jacqueline smirked.

"Good smoke screen though, don't you think?" Harrison White said, appearing a little less drunk than before lunch.

"What's it a smoke screen for?" Jake asked, and Deeks sensed his nervousness.

"All law enforcement agencies will flock to Baton Rouge," Pierce replied. "It will be Elliot's job to make it appear that there's an imminent attack coming on federal courthouses in New Orleans and future attacks on government buildings in major cities and in Washington."

"As head of the New Orleans Task Force, I can pull all federal law enforcement there...FBI...Homeland..." White said with a smile. "Leaving a big fat hole in whatever security they try to set up along the Mississippi."

"They won't be able to protect every facility," Pierce stated. "And their focus will be on federal buildings, not petrochemical plants."

"How y'all so sure 'bout dat?" Guidry asked.

"We know people, Mr. Guidry," he replied. "We only have to federalize one company's security detail and we can send them wherever we want."

"That leaves them vulnerable," Pensky said.

"We gonna blow up a chemical plant?" Jimmy Hale asked, looking wide eyed and confused. "Why?"

"My God...you're not so dumb after all," Jacqueline laughed.

"Shut up, Jacqueline," Pierce said with annoyance. "The why is not your concern, young man. All you have to do is follow orders."

"De boy asked a good question," Guidry said, standing and going up to stare at one of the other maps on the screen. "Why y'all wanna blow up a chemical plant for?"

"And which one?" Jake pressed.

His question seemed to make the Washington people nervous and they all began looking at one another. They were trying to hide something, and Deeks wondered why.

"They don't trust us, Boss," Jimmy said sullenly.

"I gonna ask ya one more time...why y'all want us ta blow up a chemical plant?" Guidry asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Changing this government will take money. A lot of money. Certainly more than we get from Doctor Mouton's little oil wells," Pierce said, his condescension showing again. "We have certain investments that we will be able to cash in on after that petrochemical plant blows. That's money we can use to fund a revolution from the inside."

"You'll get your share of the profits, Guidry," Harrison White assured him sourly.

"Still ain't told us the target," Tino said. "Gonna take a lot of plannin' to blow up somethin' big as a chemical plant. More PLX and C4 too."

"He know what he talkin' 'bout," Guidry assured them. "What's de target?"

"That decision has yet to be made," Pierce said airily, and Deeks knew he was lying. "And don't worry. We'll make sure you have all the PLX and C-4 you need. Now, I suggest we take a break. Perhaps you and your men might like to take a walk and get some air, Mr. Guidry."

Pierce gathered the others and told Guidry they needed to be back within the hour, and Deeks could tell the Cajun was pissed off at basically being told to get off the boat. It didn't help that the three mercs took up position in front of the stairs after Pierce and company headed for the upper deck. By the time they reached the dock, Guidry was steaming mad.

"Don't like dis," he stormed as they walked toward Mouton's boat. "We blow one of dese here plants along de river and it gonna foul de water for a long time. We live here. Dey don't."

"Why won't they tell us which one they want us to take out?" Jake questioned.

"Before de day is out, dey will, or one of 'em ain't goin' home," he threatened darkly.

"Whadda you think they're talkin' about all by themselves?" Deeks asked.

"Don't know, but I sure as fuck don't like it," he spit out.

"They're keepin' secrets, Boss," Jake said. "That ain't good."

"I need a whiskey," Guidry said. "You boys comin'?"

"Naw...tired a bein' cooped up inside," Jake said, rolling his shoulders and looking antsy. "Just gonna walk down to the Mississippi. Jimmy been buggin' me about it."

"Ain't never been this close to such a big river," Jimmy said, looking longingly toward the brown water.

"You go on den," Guidry said quietly. "We gonna sort dis shit out before dark."

Callen was practically vibrating as they walked along the bayou toward the river, cutting Deeks off as he started to say something. Callen had a habit of working things out before anyone else did, and Deeks was desperate to discuss what they'd just heard. He kept quiet until they worked their way down to the edge of the fast flowing river, but once he thought they were far enough away not to be overheard he couldn't contain himself.

"Tell me what you're thinking, G," his words rushing out along with his frustration.

"Sam? You and Roy get all that?" Callen said as he stared past Deeks at a large low line of barges moving slowly down the river toward New Orleans.

"Damn big power play," Sam answered.

"It's more than just power Pierce wants," Callen said quietly, checking around him as he talked. "This is about money, too. Lots of it."

"I'll see if Nell can figure out what investments Pierce is into," Sam said. "They're probably using a shell corporation to cover their tracks."

"Probably more than one," Roy added. "This sonofabitch will play all the angles, that's for sure."

"Question is, how do we stop these crazy bastards?" Deeks asked. "Cause if we don't, this would be one of the biggest environmental disasters of our time. It won't just pollute the river, but the Gulf of Mexico as well for a very long time."

"People will die," Callen said softly. "And not just the two men we're supposed to blow up. There are a lot of people on this river, and in New Orleans and the bayous that feed into it."

"And these fucks don't care," Deeks said sadly. "How do you get that messed up?"

"That, kid, is the universal question about all terrorists," Roy replied.

"Here's another one," Callen said. "Pierce has no guarantee the president will keep him on as Attorney General. He can appoint whoever he wants after the dust settles. So if it's long term power he's after as well as money, how does he get it?"

"He becomes a hero," Deeks said breathlessly, seeing it so clearly it stunned him. "Guidry and The Brotherhood are the scapegoats."

"After they do his dirty work, he blames them for everything, takes them out and walks away," Callen breathed out.

"It's a hell of a plan," Roy said. "And you two are right in the middle of it."

"Even if we stop the assassination you'd still be in danger," Sam said. "This is a black op. Whatever tactical teams they send to take down The Brotherhood won't know you're federal agents. And we won't know when they're coming."

"You trying to tell us we're fucked?" Deeks asked, flashing a nervous grin.

"He won't do anything until that plant blows, and we won't let it get that far," Callen said. "Call Hetty. She needs to be on comms when we find out just what petrochemical plant they want us to destroy, and when."

"Safa too?" Sam asked.

"That's your call, partner," Callen replied.

"What about Elan?" Deeks asked.

"Told me you wouldn't spot 'im," Roy said.

"He's here?" Deeks asked, breaking into a smile.

"Who else is gonna watch your six, brother?" Elan's voice calmed him immediately and he could see it had a similar effect on Callen.

"You two need a safety word," Sam said.

"Dumbass," Deeks and Elan said in unison.

"We better get back," Callen said. "Stay close Elan. Not sure Pierce and his little friends trust us quite yet."

"Cain't believe I'm sayin this boys, but Guidry will protect y'all," Roy said quietly.

"I find that a little disturbing," Callen said with a smirk. "A sociopathic butcher protecting us from a man willing to become a mass murderer just to get a better job and earn a little extra cash."

There was no more to say after that and the Hale brothers headed back toward the boats, Deeks occasionally checking to see if he could spot Elan. He was deeply alarmed by what these people were planning, the scale of it overwhelming, and the responsibility for stopping it growing heavier by the minute. Callen must have sense his turmoil, running a hand along his shoulder to finally grip the back of his neck. They looked at each other, reading the concern and determination in each other's eyes.

"We'll stop 'em, brother," Callen assured him softly.

Deeks could only nod as they walked onto the dock. He found he was suddenly exhausted by the enormity of it all, and he struggled to drop back into an alias that he had no desire to inhabit. Jimmy Hale would think the whole scheme was exciting, something a man like him might have looked forward to being a part of his entire life. Being Jimmy, he could not allow his own revulsion to show, could not reveal any sort of feelings for the people this act of terror would impact, and he found himself struggling to be that person. He was beginning to hate everything about Jimmy Hale, and didn't want to personify someone who believed that what these people were planning was a good thing. But, he also knew he had no choice. To stop this horror from happening, he would have to become Jimmy and it made him sick to his stomach.

"Get your fuckin' shit together, bro," Jake snarled, shoving him hard. "Fun time is over. Time to play with the big boys and girls."

Deeks realized Callen had noticed his struggle and was trying to shock him back to where he needed to be, but it still pissed him off.

"Fuck you, Jake," he snapped, deeply angry and ready for a physical fight to match the emotional battle going on inside of him.

Callen slapped him hard across the cheek and Jimmy exploded, swinging wildly at him, missing the first time, but connecting with his eye on the second. They grappled with each other, pushing and shoving, cursing and calling each other names all while staring at each other, both recognizing the other's turmoil, the stress finally getting to them and needing an outlet. Tino finally intervened and pulled Jake off, while Guidry stepped between them, his fists pressing into his chest as he pushed him away. Sam was yelling in his ear and Roy was laughing, all of it deepening his anger as he felt himself sliding down into the depths of his alias.

"What de fuck you two fightin' 'bout?" Guidry demanded.

"I found it quite entertaining," Newton Pierce called out from the deck of his yacht. "Nothing like a little blood sport to enliven the afternoon. One of my bodyguards used to do some fighting in the Army. Perhaps a match between him and one of the Hale brothers might take our minds off the boring details of our meeting. What do you say, Mr., Guidry? Are you a betting man?"

"I'll take odds on Jimmy," Jacqueline Bennet offered. "No holds barred I'm hoping."

"A good old fashioned street fight. Of course, if you don't think your man can win, Guidry, I will understand your reluctance to put money on him," Pierce taunted.

Jimmy looked over at his brother and saw the regret in his eyes, but also a challenge. The tension between the two groups was palpable, the air practically crackling with it. The others had come out to watch, smiling at the distraction and Jimmy Hale seethed with the need to hit someone. Guidry yanked him close, his eyes dark and turbulent with fierce pride and deep held anger.

"You kick dat couyon's ass, mon fils," he growled. "Don't ya leave 'im standin'. Ya hear me, boy? Need ta wipe dat grin off dat big shot's fuckin' face."

Jimmy Hale nodded solemnly, his adrenaline pounding through his veins as one of the mercs started taking off his jacket. Taut muscles bulged beneath the black t-shirt he wore as he walked toward him cracking his knuckles and smiling. Jimmy charged without warning, and he saw the man's eyes widen just before he slammed into him, knocking him over the gangway and down on the worn wooden dock. He found he was suddenly lost in the blood lust of it and hit him again and again, not feeling anything but blind rage as he battered the man. The merc's eyes were glazed, but he managed to get in a couple of solid punches, and finally rolled him over, and struggled to his feet. Jimmy was laughing now, oblivious to the shouts around him and to those in his ear. As the man staggered backward, he took one long stride and hit him full force in the face, breaking his nose. The man's eyes rolled back in his head as he fell senseless off the dock into the bayou. Then there was silence. The only sound he heard was Elan speaking softly in Arapaho. Something he couldn't bear to listen to.

"Shut up, Cuz," he choked out in a whisper before Jake got to him.

"Hell of a fight, little brother," Jake said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he looked proudly up at the group on the boat.

This was who he was now, who they both were, and he felt slithery like a venomous snake, the lowest of the low. His brother was a bastard and he was a violent sonofabitch ready to beat anyone unconscious who ticked him off. This was who he had to be and it made him want to vomit.

The comms were silent, but he wasn't sure if he had simply blocked everyone out or his actions had shocked them so badly they didn't know what to say. He felt cold. He felt empty and alone. It all felt sadly familiar and truly frightening as his father's voice came out of his mouth.

"You fucks owe me a drink," he shouted.

Guidry slapped him hard on the back and hooted out a laugh. Even big old ugly Tino was laughing, but it was Jake he reached for in the gathering darkness of his soul. His fingers clawed into his shoulder, unsure what he was seeking, but needing some sort of sign that he wasn't alone, that he hadn't lost himself completely in the sudden rush of rage.

"You did what you had to," Jake said softly, leaning close and ruffling his hair.

The gesture was so comforting he thought he might break down, but knew he couldn't. He watched dispassionately as the two other mercs dragged their man from the water, and then looked up to see Jacqueline Bennet staring back at him. Pierce stood slightly in front of her talking as his fingers toyed with the buttons on her red silk shirt. She held up her glass as if to toast what he'd done, and he spit out a gob of blood and turned away.

"Dat bitch want you, mon fils," Guidry said.

"I ain't smart enough for her," he replied.

"She ain't interested in what's in your head," Tino said with a leering grin. "It's what's in your pants that's got 'er hot."

"Bet she be a cold one in bed," Guidry snorted. "No never mind, Jimmy. Let's go get us one of dem brandy drinks you like."

The four of them headed up the gangway where they were met by Newton Pierce and Jacob Pensky. Both men seemed to be assessing him, their faces calculating, but he sensed a slight uneasiness that hadn't been there before.

"Too bad your boy acted so quickly, Guidry," Pierce commented airily. "We didn't have a chance to place bets. You would have won handsomely."

"Don't need lots a money," Guidry replied. "Got family."

"I wasn't aware you had one," Pierce said as he led them toward the bar.

"De Brotherhood my family," he replied. "Dis here boy family now. Dat's who we fight for."

"Well, he is a hell of a fighter," Pierce said. "Rather out of control though, don't you think?"

"Your man shoulda been ready," Jake said smugly.

"Good point," Pierce said agreeably. "Another brandy for you, Jimmy Boy?"

"We all havin' brandy," Guidry announced as he possessively draped his arm across Jimmy's shoulder.

The rest of the group wandered in, and he was surprised to be congratulated by Elliot Dale, although Doctor Mouton still gave him a wide berth. Jacqueline ignored him as she poured herself a glass of red wine, but it was Harrison White's constant staring that slightly unnerved him. He drained the brandy in one swallow and glared back at him until the man looked away. If he'd been made, it was all over, remembering that it was White who had betrayed Joe and calmly watched Oscar Doucet torn to shreds by dogs. He wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of the man for the pain he had caused Joe, something Jimmy Hale was very good at. Too bad it would have to wait.

"Gentlemen and Jacqueline, we have a few specifics to work out before we can proceed," Pierce announced, as a photo appeared on the screen. "This is Marisol Petrochemical, a storage facility just south of here. This is to be your target. I want it blown three days after the bombing in Baton Rouge. By then I should be in charge of the Department of Justice and our plans can go forward. Any questions?"

"You promised more PLX and C-4," Tino said. "Need ta know where ta pick that up."

"Jacob here will let you know," he replied.

"What dis gonna do ta de Mississip?" Guidry asked.

"Nothing that won't be quickly cleaned up," Pierce falsely assured him. "We simply need Marisol's stock to fall sharply so we can fund the future of this country. You do your job and we will do ours. Then we can all stand proud, with the power to change things about this country to our satisfaction."

"Bullshit," Hetty unexpectedly whispered in his ear.

"Site plans and critical access points to the plant, along with security passcodes will be provided in the next couple of days," he said.

"Ain't this enough to arrest these bastards?" Roy asked Hetty over comms.

"Yes. However...While Newton Pierce appears to be the head of the snake, I fear there are other powerful people involved as well," Hetty replied carefully. "I don't want to move too soon and allow the unknown members of this nest of vipers to disappear and come back to try again. Both of you stay in and find out all you can. I'll alert the Attorney General and SecNav. Let's see if we can slow up their timeline until we have the evidence we need to take every last one of them down for good."

He'd been concentrating on Hetty's comments and when he looked up he saw Pierce staring at him. Guidry looked pissed, and Jake looked ready to kill someone.

"Did I miss somethin'?" He asked.

"He ain't goin' nowhere without me," Jake said intensely, his hands tightening into fists.

"I don't believe it's your call to make, Jake," Pierce said evenly. "Surely you can spare Jimmy Boy here for one night, Guidry. He interests me."

"Let me stay with 'im, Boss," Jake asked.

"Need ya wid me, Jake," Guidry said, shaking his head. "We gotta make us some plans. Jimmy be okay. He can take care of hisself."

"Don't I get no say?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh sweetheart, wake up. You're just the hired help...remember?" Jacqueline scoffed as she dropped into an overstuffed chair and tucked a wayward strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Just because you beat up someone doesn't change that."

"Ever been to New Orleans, Jimmy Boy?" Pierce asked.

"No sir," he replied, the nickname really starting to irritate him.

"The cruise down the lower Mississippi is not terribly beautiful," the man continued. "Too many tankers and barges. But when we cruise past New Orleans at night, I'm sure you'll find it quite exciting."

"If you say so, Mr. Pierce," Jimmy said with a tentative smile.

"I believe that concludes our business for now, Guidry. We'll be in touch," Pierce said as he began ushering them toward the gangway. "Elliot will see you back. Doctor Mouton will be my guest tonight."

Callen looked like he wanted to choke the life out of somebody, but they both knew there was nothing they could say that would change what was about to happen. They would be separated and he heard Elan utter a string of curses, and a long angry sounding comment in Arapaho.

"I'm afraid you're on your own, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said softly. "Be careful. Both of you."

"Keep your eyes open, kid," Roy cautioned.

"Isn't there some way to keep eyes on that boat?" Sam asked, sounding agitated. "Isn't there a satellite Eric can link into or something? He's exposed out there, Hetty. With no back up."

"You keep track of your partner, Mr. Hanna," she said sharply. "I'll have Mr. Beale see what he can do."

His head began to swim as the people in his ear began to argue over his circumstances. He had no idea why Pierce wanted him to come along on his trip back down to New Orleans, but he would have to make the best of it and gather as much information as he could while he was with them. He tuned out the voices in his ear as he stood watching Callen walk to Mouton's boat with Guidry and Tino, concerned he was being too anxious about their separation, and afraid it would make Guidry suspicious. He was used to doing undercover ops alone, just as Callen was, but NCIS never liked one of their own to be under without backup. Callen had been accepted by Guidry so was relatively safe, but this group's dynamic was unknown, the players vastly more sophisticated and cunning. He'd have to fly by the seat of his pants on this one and trust the team to track him, but even if they did, they were too far away to count on if things went sideways.

The big yacht vibrated with life and he found he was looking forward to being on the Mississippi and broke away from the others and headed for the bow. He remained alone as they passed through a couple of narrow locks before entering the wide river. The boat surged as it caught the fast moving current and he found he was excited and grateful for any diversion that would allow him to calm down. He had lost control during the fight and it would be dangerous to let it happen again, especially now that he was alone with these people. If White suspected him at all, he needed to be prepared.

"Elan?" He whispered.

"Cuz."

"Can you stay close?"

"As close as I can."

"If I have to swim for it, come get me."

"Count on it."

"You been made, kid?" Roy asked.

"Not sure," he replied.

"That trackin' spray don't wash off," Roy reminded him. "You go in the water, we'll find ya. But that's worse case scenario."

"Just paranoid, I guess," he whispered.

"Good way ta be when you're undercover," Roy replied softly.

"Remember your safety word, Deeks," Sam advised. "Once you get to New Orleans, Joe's handler, Safa will track you. She'll be on comms."

"Thanks guys."

When their voices went silent he still felt comfort just knowing they were there. He noticed the boat stayed closed to the edge of the shipping channel, and he spent some time trying to calculate how long and how far he would have to swim to reach the bank. The exercise allowed him to still some of his jumpiness and he finally found he was enjoying being on the vast river.

"Want some company?" Jacqueline Bennet called out, the sound of her high heels as strident as her voice.

It really wasn't a question and they both knew it. He bowed his head as he leaned over the bulkhead, summoning the lowbrow, cocky persona of Jimmy Hale. He wasn't sure what part she was playing, but he would have to play his carefully and wait to see what she wanted. When she reached him he turned, noticing that the buttons on her red silk blouse were undone to reveal the deep valley between her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra and it made him smile. Just an old fashioned seduction that made no sense. She wasn't good at this and he knew this wasn't her idea. What information did they think he'd give up once she seduced him? He was just the hired help.

"You're disgustingly sweaty," she said, frowning. "You should clean up."

"What the fuck for?"

He kept his voice low and rough, enjoying antagonizing her. Jimmy Hale wasn't the subtle type. He was crude, but maybe that's what she wanted. Fucking the uncouth bodyguard for a good story to tell to her friends back in Washington.

"I think fuck is the operative word here," she said, trying hard to be sultry and sexy with someone she obviously despised.

"What the hell does that mean?" Jimmy asked, playing stupid as he leered at her breasts just to see how far she would take this.

She ran her hand up under his t-shirt, and he hissed as her fingernails scratched across a tender bruise on his ribs. It made her smile, but it pissed him off.

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" she asked, grabbing the top of his pants and pulling him close. "Go ahead...suck my tit. It's what you want, isn't it Jimmy Boy?"

She taunted him with the demeaning nickname as she slowly pulled her blouse open, offering her ample breast as if it were an appetizer. He swallowed hard, wanting to reject her, but worried that it would seem suspicious. At the moment he wasn't sure he cared. He didn't like her and she sure as hell didn't like him, but it was tempting, and Jimmy was a horny little shit without much control over his volatile emotions. She was a patronizing bitch and he suddenly wanted to wipe that overconfident smirk off her heavily made up face.

He let his smile fade, breathing though his mouth as his nostrils flared and his tongue slid out to wet his bottom lip. He looked down at the dark rosette of her nipple and then pushed her blouse off both shoulders, exposing her breasts. Leaning down, he slowly licked one and made a crude, smacking noise as he roughly suckled the other, feeling her breath explode into the hair at the back of his neck. Then he stood to his full height and pushed her away.

"No thanks, lady. I don't like you or your tits."

He brushed passed her and walked away, smiling as Roy laughed in his ear.

...

...


	24. Chapter 24

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 24_

...

 **Rated M**

...

The soft murmur of voices through the door held his attention as he fixed himself a fresh cup of coffee in the galley. He let out a long slow breath before inhaling the familiar aroma and taking in a mouthful of the rich blend. The brandy had dulled his senses a bit after the rush of adrenaline had passed, and his confrontation with Jacqueline made him aware just how sharp he needed to be. It had sent him in search of caffeine and a place where he could be alone to think. The galley was small and neat and the coffee was heaven, but as the voices in the foyer rose, so did his anxiety. He had to smile as he heard Jacqueline recount her attempt at seduction to Newton Pierce. She was loudly indignant over his rejection of her, but the man simply laughed, which only made her angrier, her sophistication disappearing in a tumbling harangue of rough, unladylike language. He heard him tell her to shut up and then the unmistakable sound of a slap and the familiar whimper of a woman used to being silenced by abuse. She had failed and paid the price, and that was his fault.

"Shit," he whispered, and carefully set his coffee down on the counter.

Blowing out his breath, he opened the door and both of them turned to look at him. Pierce had his hand around Jacqueline's throat, obviously deeply annoyed, his mouth twisted downward and his eyes dark with anger. She looked at him with defiance even as her eyes shimmered with tears. Pierce loosened his grip on her neck and slid his hand down inside her blouse, breathing heavily as he lifted her breast.

"I thought you would enjoy fucking her," he said, focused on her nipple as he caressed it. "She's quite good at it, actually."

"Didn't mean to get her in trouble, sir," he replied, struggling to remain civil.

"Not your type? Or just too old and used up," he said nastily, making him flinch right along with her.

"Guess it just didn't seem right," he lied.

"That attitude is odd for a cocky little ruffian like you," Pierce said as he pushed her away.

"My mama taught me manners before she died," he said carefully.

"Did your daddy teach you to respect your betters, too?" He sneered.

"Didn't have time. He was killed when I was eight," he replied, seriously starting to dislike the man even more than he already did.

"So...you're a poor little orphan boy with a hair trigger temper and a love of violence," Pierce said with contempt. "But you won't fuck a woman who offers herself willingly? Maybe you'd rather fuck me."

"Don't feel like fuckin' either one of you," he snapped back.

"Even if I tell you to?"

"Why the hell do you want me to fuck her?" The words rushing out with his anger.

"It doesn't matter why, you little piece of shit," Pierce snarled. "You're a simpleminded, gutter born soldier in my army. If I tell you to do something, you damn well better do it, or I'll have you shot."

Deeks hesitated at the threat, fighting to keep from saying something that would only get him into deeper trouble, unsure if the man was a megalomaniac or simply testing him. He was certainly drunk and probably on something else as well, and it was starting to freak him out. Pierce took a step toward him and smiled and Deeks recoiled from his closeness.

"I like to be entertained, Jimmy Boy. And you an Jacqueline are going to be this evening's entertainment," he said softly. "Why else did you think I wanted you here?"

He had no idea how to answer that and thought seriously about jumping in the river just to get away from these sick whack jobs. He looked over at Jacqueline, her face now composed, and her natural contempt returning along with her scornful smirk.

"No answer, Jimmy Boy?" Pierce asked. "Maybe a drink will loosen you up."

He turned to the shelf crowded with liquor bottles and sloppily poured a tumbler full of scotch and shoved it toward him. He took a small sip, but Pierce forced him to drink more, holding the glass to his lips until he'd drunk almost half. He heard Roy in his ear, his words of caution no help whatsoever as Pierce wrapped an arm around his shoulder and walked him toward the main cabin. The others were waiting in the dim light, the mercenaries drinking right along with the conspirators.

"Shall we adjourn to the upper deck?" Pierce said. "Our guest has agreed to perform for us in a little carnal diversion before dinner."

The merc he had beaten was standing by the stairs, his eyes blackened and filled with hate. The other two started up the stairs in front of him and he flinched as Pierce placed a hand on his back, following him closely up the stairs. The upper deck was completely open to the sky, the low clouds on the horizon a deep orange as the late evening deepened into darkness. He looked out across the expanse of water, briefly considering jumping overboard once again, but he knew that wasn't an option. He would just have to deal with whatever was coming. A large, white day bed set up in the stern gave him some indication, pillows piled against the slated wooden headboard, the canopy moving slowly in the soft air. Under normal circumstances it would be a nice place to watch the river go by, but tonight it made his skin crawl.

"Jimmy Boy decided to become shy," Pierce laughed. "Personally, I think Jacqueline scares him a little."

"Smarter than he looks," Pensky snorted as he slumped in a lounge chair and sipped his drink.

Harrison White didn't say anything, just stared at him with calculating eyes as if trying to remember something. He was beginning to wonder if they had run into each other somewhere before, but nothing came to mind. That didn't keep him from worrying, making him more nervous about having his cover blown than about the little porn circus Pierce was setting up.

"Doc? I think our Jimmy needs a little help to get him through a fuck session with Jacqueline," Pierce said, and Deeks cringed.

He hated drugs, but Jimmy Hale wouldn't, and that's who he was. Mouton reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny glassine envelope of pills. It had been a long time since he'd been forced to take drugs as part of the job, but he had to show some enthusiasm, or Pierce's suspicions would only increase. He was walking a dangerous line here, one he had to cross, knowing once he took what they offered he would lose some control over his actions. When he was an undercover cop, it wasn't unusual to have to indulge in order to convince the bad guys he was who he said he was, and this was no different.

"What kinda stuff you pushin', Doc?" He asked, grinning to cover his nervousness.

"You seem to have a real problem with gifts, Jimmy Boy. Why is that?" Pierce asked.

Not being able to answer truthfully, he shrugged his shoulders, cocked his head and smiled, taking the small white pill the doctor held out to him and popping it into his mouth. He could only hope he would be okay, but then he had no idea what drug he'd just ingested, and Roy swore softly in his ear.

"Drug dealer and doctor," Jimmy said cockily. "You oughta try your own medicine, Doc. Might loosen ya up some."

"Let's get on with this, Newton," the doctor said, looking irritated.

Pierce laughed as he took the glassine bag and fished out a tab of ecstasy, slipping it onto his tongue as he swept his arm out like he was introducing a headliner in Vegas. Discordant jazz began to play loudly as Jacqueline stepped out of the shadows by the pilothouse. Her red silk blouse hung open over her bare breasts and other than that the only thing she wore was a black thong. The whole scene looked cheesy, like a bad porn movie playing on late night television and he struggled not to laugh. He wasn't Deeks now and had to fight the urge to make a cheeky comment, the drugs and alcohol making it difficult. No matter what he thought, he had to play his part.

Jacqueline wasn't unattractive, and his body responded naturally as she played with herself. He reached out to touch her, and she smiled smugly and began to push him back toward the day bed. She lifted the hem of his shirt and Jimmy eagerly yanked it off over his head, tossing it aside as her hands slid down his chest to the top of his pants. Licking his nipple hungrily, she moaned softly as she pinched the other and he felt himself harden. She hurriedly unzipped his jeans and yanked them down off his hips, her long nails leaving scratch marks in their wake. He stumbled as he kicked off his shoes and socks, feeling lightheaded from the drugs and from her hand tightening around his balls.

They believed Jimmy to be a crude lover, someone unable to control himself, so that's how he acted, the drugs quelling any inhibitions that remained. He was definitely feeling no pain and suddenly ripped the red blouse off her shoulder and grabbed her thong, pulling her into his body as his mouth closed over her breast and his fingers clawed into her ass. She growled with what he assumed was appreciation, and bit into the tender skin at the base of his neck and he felt the first stirrings of anger. Since Jimmy wouldn't give a shit about foreplay, he quickly spun her around and shoved her down on the day bed, watching her eyes widen when he reached into his pants and pulled out the full length of his dick. He stroked himself a few times and flashed a brazen grin, and she bit into her lip, moaning and breathing heavily. She reached out and grabbed his belt, pulling him closer until he finally crawled onto the day bed and sprawled on top of her. Nothing subtle about Jimmy. Nothing but rough sex from both of them.

He had always enjoyed sex, but after a few minutes he found he couldn't focus, his movements growing sluggish. His body didn't seem to want to do what he wanted, making him wonder what the hell they had given him, but he couldn't think clearly enough to figure it out. It felt as if his arms were made of lead as he tried to hold himself above her. His mind grew fuzzy, and he shook his head as his vision became distorted and blurry.

He cursed in surprise when strong hands grabbed him from behind and pulled him off Jacqueline, throwing him over onto his back. He tried to fight, but he had no strength and could only weakly resist as two of the mercs dragged him up to the top of the day bed. Jacqueline laughed as his wrists were handcuffed tightly to the frame above his head, his legs spread apart and his ankles tied to the posts at the bottom.

"What the fuck you doin'?" He asked, his tongue stumbling over the words.

It was if he was surrounded by vultures, and he wondered if he was hallucinating as Pierce and the others gathered around to watch him struggle feebly against the restraints. Jacqueline kneeled between his legs and took his cock in her hand, slowly stroking him as she cradled it between her breasts. He heard one of the men groan, and looked over to see Jacob Pensky with his hand down his pants and he had the sudden urge to laugh. There had been a time when he was might have enjoyed this, but this was more than a bunch of perverts getting their rocks off. Even in his muddled mind he knew this wasn't about sex. This was about dominance, and instilling fear. This was going to be an interrogation, and if he couldn't withstand it he would die, and so would Callen, and maybe thousands more. The entire op now rested on his ability to maintain his cover in spite of the drug he'd taken and it scared the shit out of him that he might not be able to do that.

The drug continued to slow his thinking and he began to disassociate himself from what was happening to him, until he was jerked back to a measure of awareness as Jacqueline dug her nails into his bare ass. He opened his eyes and murmured a weak curse as Pierce wrapped a hand around his dick and held it as she sucked him into her mouth. The wave of pleasure was brief, the needed release lost in a haze of fear and uncertainty, leaving him quivering as dark memories crawled out from their hiding places.

"Fun's over, Jacqueline," Pierce finally said as he pulled her away. "She really can't help herself, Jimmy. Any man will do for our Jacqueline. Even an ill-bred punk like you."

Deeks tried to comment but his mouth was dry and his tongue wouldn't cooperate. When the doctor sat down beside him with a loaded syringe he began to sweat profusely and his heart raced with desperation. He struggled against his bonds, thrashing uncontrollably until Pierce backhanded him across the mouth, cutting his lip.

"Don't fight it, Jimmy Boy. The doctor is going to shoot you up with a little truth serum cocktail," he said calmly. "Then you're going to answer a few questions."

The doctor leaned over him and slid the needle easily into the vein in his arm, the effect of the drug almost immediate, sending a powerful wave of debilitating weakness throughout his body, and leaving him disoriented.

"What the fuck is this?" he mumbled, his words slurring. "What did I do?"

It was Harrison White who sat down next to him and gripped his jaw tightly, pissing him off. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open as White waited patiently for the drugs to completely flood his system.

"You ever been to Washington, Jimmy?" He finally asked, squeezing his jaw painfully. "At a congressional hearing, maybe?"

"No..no sir. Don't think so...no," he mumbled, his stomach clinching into a hard knot at the troubling question.

The merc he'd beaten up delivered a solid punch to his abdomen and he screamed. White quickly silenced him, covering his mouth and nose with his hand.

"See...I think you're lying," White said as he leaned close to his face. "I think you testified before a congressional committee about a Chinese spy. I think you were partners with Joe Atwood. And I don't think you're name is Jimmy Hale. I think you're a fucking federal agent."

Images from his past flashed into his mind and his body suddenly flushed with adrenaline as the truth spewed from the man's mouth. He was in deep shit now and when the man released him he sputtered spit all over his face and yanked against the cuffs, showing nothing but raw rage to cover his lie.

"You callin' me a Fed, you fuck? I hate Feds. I hate cops...they killed my old man, you fuckin' sonofabitch."

He couldn't stop talking or cursing, and rambled on and on about how much he hated the government until he exhausted himself, the adrenaline draining away. He continued to mumble incoherently as the drugs took greater effect and the world he could see grew weird looking and his thoughts disjointed.

"You look funny," he finally said, drifting away until they slapped him awake.

The questions were repeated over and over, with White asking what his name was, what his brother's real name was, what agency he worked for until his mind became a maze of lies. No matter how many times he called himself Jimmy or railed against the government, they didn't believe him, and he was growing so very tired of it all.

"Maybe he needs another dose," Pierce said.

"It might kill him," someone said.

"You gonna kill me?" He asked wearily. "I didn't do nothin. My brother will shoot you, man. He'll fuckin' kill you all."

"Tell me about the Chinese spy, Jimmy," White persisted.

When he didn't respond, someone hit him hard in the armpit and he choked out a deep groan. He couldn't seem to form a complete thought anymore, but he wanted to make them happy so they wouldn't hit him again so he started saying whatever came into his head.

"Chow mien...that's Chinese ain't it? Me and Jake had it once," He said in a whisper. "Chop sticks too...right?"

"Thought this was a truth serum, Mouton," Pierce asked, sounding pissed off. "This is nothing but garbage."

"Ever think he might not be who you think he is, Harrison?" Jacqueline asked. "You said you only stepped into that hearing room for a few minutes to give someone a message. You were way in the back. How can you be so sure this is the same guy?"

"Don't question me, you slut," White snapped. "I checked out Joe Atwood, remember? He had a partner during a joint operation to take down that Chinese spy. That's who I think this guy is, and I'm going to get the truth out of him one way or the other."

"Why don't you call someone at the task force and have them get a copy of the file from the hearing?" Someone asked. "There should be a photo of the agents involved."

"It's highly classified," he replied. "It'll send up too many red flags if we go poking around looking for it."

"You're a goddamn spy, Harrison," Pierce spit out. "Find a fall guy to do it. You can always disavow."

Deeks' mind drifted as he listened to the man make a phone call, and he tried to prepare himself for more questions, desperate to hide behind his lies. He had to, didn't he? They'd kill his brother if he didn't. He wanted to be angry, but that emotion spiraled away from him, leaving only fear and disquieting thoughts of dark nights and the smell of tobacco.

"You're not alone, Jimmy."

He unwittingly jerked when he heard Hetty's voice in his ear. It completely confused him and he raised his head and opened his eyes to search for her in the darkness.

"Listen only to my voice. No one else. I will tell you what to say," her quiet, sensible voice calming him. "And remember who you are. You're Jimmy Hale."

"I'm Jimmy...Jimmy Hale," he repeated out loud, stumbling over the words. "Why the fuck you doin' this, man?"

"Tell me about Joe Atwood," White said, backhanding him when he simply stared back at him.

"You don't know that person, Jimmy," Hetty said quietly in his ear. "Talk about your brother Jake."

"Who the fuck is that?" He asked weakly, and absorbed another punch to his gut. "Jake...Jake's gonna be pissed. You're all gonna be sorry...I'm gonna tell 'im about this, you sonofabitch."

"You're not going to remember any of this, asshole," White said, gripping his jaw and shoving his head back. "And if you don't tell me the truth, I'm gonna have the doc shoot you up with more drugs and then have the crap beat outa you."

"Overkill, don't you think?" A distant voice growled.

"You want to take the risk, Jacob?" White asked. "Now give him another shot Ezra and let's find out who he really is."

"Don't you want to wait for your agent in New Orleans to call you back?" Jacqueline asked.

"You growing a little fond of your new boy toy, Jacqueline?" Pierce asked snidely. "Maybe you can fuck the information out of him."

"And maybe you should be a little worried about what happens if this kid dies," she said. "Guidry called him family. And I don't know about you, but that asshole scares the bejesus out of me."

"She's right...better listen..." Deeks mumbled. "He fed Saint to the gators...they ate the ugly fuck."

"Do you know who he's talking about, Harrison?" Pierce asked.

"Met 'im once," White replied. "What difference does it make. It's just one less member of The Brotherhood we have to kill."

"Shouldn't you watch what you say?" Jacqueline asked. "What if he does remember and tells Guidry?"

"He won't remember anything...trust me," Doctor Mouton assured her.

"You better hope to hell you're right, or I'll shoot you myself," Pierce said angrily.

Deeks saw the doctor moving toward him with another syringe and he started struggling again. White grabbed his arm, holding it as the needle pricked his vein sharply, causing him to cry out and plead with them to believe him, his voice weak and filled with desperation.

"I'm...a...patriot..." He finally whispered before the darkness took him.

...

...

Sam was startled awake by a rough hand on his shoulder, but sat up quickly when he saw the look on Roy's face. By the time he got the sleep out of his eyes, the man was gone and he threw the sheet off and got up to follow, padding barefoot down the hall in his underwear. Before he even got to Roy's operations room, he could hear Elan's voice on speaker and the big Arapaho was not happy.

"Deeks is in trouble," Roy said solemnly as he entered the room. "Elan wants to go in and get him."

"Even if you could get to the boat, I can't allow you to do that, Elan," Hetty was saying from the large screen that dominated the room. "It would most certainly blow his cover and Mr. Callen's. It would jeopardize this whole operation, and probably get you killed. They haven't broken him yet, Elan, so I need you to trust that they won't."

"What if he overdoses? I can't just listen to him die," Elan's voice cracked with emotion. "I know you're tracking him. Just tell me where the boat is...please."

"What the hell is going on?" Sam asked, suddenly very afraid. "What happened to Deeks?"

"They're using drugs on him, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said. "Harrison White is trying to get him to admit he's a federal agent."

"He got made?" Sam asked. "How?"

"From the oversight committee hearing on the Lee Chao case, our dead Chinese spy. Apparently White was there briefly, and caught a glimpse of Mr. Deeks," she replied. "But he's not entirely certain, so they're pumping him full of drugs to get him to talk."

"He hasn't said anything for at least a half hour, Sam," Elan said without energy. "He could be dead already."

"Don't say that," he ordered. "And why didn't you let me know what was going on, Roy?"

"Sorry, man," Roy said. "I was a little busy."

"You know now, Sam," Hetty said sharply, and he realized how concerned she was. "It's time to get on with it and deal with the situation."

"White called somebody in the task force and ordered them to search for the classified file," Roy said. "Not sure who."

"Nell is working to keep them from finding the real file or any photos of Mr. Deeks or his personnel file," Hetty said. "Mr. Beale is creating a false file on both the hearing and on Agent Deeks, along with a doctored photo that should prove to them that Jimmy Hale is not who Harrison White thinks he is."

Sam immediately grabbed a phone and called Safa, all of them waiting while she came on the line.

"Do you always wake a girl in the middle of the damn night?" She grumbled sleepily.

"Aren't you supposed to be on comms and tracking Deeks?" Sam practically shouted.

"It's too soon for him to be here," she retorted. "Now what the hell happened that's got you all pissy?"

"Harrison White thinks Deeks is an agent. They're interrogating him right now and using drugs to do it."

"That bastard," she said. "Tell me what you need."

"White called someone at the task force to search for a classified file that would prove he's right," Sam said urgently. "Can you find out who and stop him?"

"I know who he called," she said quickly. "His name is David Pham and he's a consummate hacker. I've helped him before. He trusts me."

"You're on speaker, Safa," Sam alerted her.

"Our best tech operator is creating a phony classified file from a committee hearing and one on Deeks, with an altered photo," Hetty explained.

"Can you get it past this hacker of yours?" Sam asked hurriedly.

"You still don't believe I'm good at this, do you?"

"I'm praying you are, or two good men are gonna die," he replied quietly.

"I'll be at the office in fifteen minutes," she said. "I'm sending you the encrypted password to my laptop. Have your tech send the fake files as soon as he has them. I just hope David hasn't already accessed the real file."

"Mr. Beale and Nell will do whatever it takes to keep him from doing that," Hetty said.

"I hope they're good," she said in a rush.

"There's no one better, Miss Jordan," Hetty said confidently.

Sam shot a worried look at Roy when he got off the phone. "Please tell me Callen wasn't on comms when this happened,"

"No, he wasn't," Roy assured him quickly.

"He can't know about this," Sam said.

"I agree, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said.

"He's gonna be pissed as hell when he finds out," Elan warned.

"Like you?" Sam asked pointedly.

"You didn't hear him..." Elan couldn't finish, but his anguish was clear.

"Get your butt to New Orleans, Elan," Sam ordered, knowing he needed something to do. "I'll meet you there. Callen gave me the registration number for Pierce's yacht. If Roy can find out where it docks, we can do some surveillance."

"Damn right I can find his slip. Give me the number," Roy said, typing the information quickly into his computer. "I'll send the info to y'all's phones. Now move it."

"Be careful, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said softly, after they removed their earwigs. "And please try and control Elan."

"That won't be easy, Hetty."

"No...I don't imagine it will be. But it is necessary."

Sam nodded and rushed back to dress, his mind roaring with questions and the pulsing need to do whatever he could to make sure Deeks made it out of this. His partner would be even more difficult to control than Elan Hand if he discovered what was going on, and he feared for him if he did. It had taken almost half an hour to calm him down after he got back to The Brotherhood's camp. He'd sounded like a caged animal, voicing his insecurities and deep fear of losing the man he cherished as his brother. Pierce's group had no idea just how lethal Jake Hale could be, and if they made a mistake and Deeks overdosed and died, he had no doubt they would all pay with their lives. There would be no controlling him then, or Elan either.

...

Sam still found it hard to adjust to the heavy warmth of the night air in Louisiana. It stifled his breathing and only added to his irritation as they waited for Pierce's yacht to dock at the marina. Elan had ceased talking some time ago, and was crouched in the pale shadows of the stern on a yacht they'd appropriated in the next slip over. The man repeatedly checked his Glock and the three knives he was now carrying, and it made Sam nervous, and worried for him. If the big Arapaho decided to attack, he didn't want to have to hurt him to stop it. He'd told him he would if he didn't follow orders and after a slow smile Elan had gone silent, not even acknowledging his presence. They should be working as a team, but instead there was a distance between them that could compromise this mission. He understood where Elan was coming from. Deeks was family. In the past he had done whatever necessary himself to protect his own, without regard to the consequences or to direct orders, and he found he couldn't fault Elan for doing the same. Maybe Safa had been right. Emotional attachments were dangerous.

"You care about him too," Elan said softly.

"So now you're talking to me?"

"If he's dead, what will you do?"

"Continue the mission," Sam replied. "He will have died to stop these people from killing thousands, and taking sensitive positions in our government, I intend to respect that. The people on that boat could just be the tip of the iceberg and we have to get them all or he will have died for nothing."

"Y'all gettin' way ahead of yourselves," Roy cut in on comms.

"I agree, gentlemen," Hetty said.

"Boat's just enterin' the lake," Roy informed them. "Should be at the marina in about twenty minutes. Keep an eye out."

"Still nothing from Deeks?" Elan whispered.

"We're all on the same channel now," Hetty informed them. "You'll hear him if he manages to say anything."

Elan replied in his native tongue and it made Sam sad, because there was no hope in his voice.

"Don't you doubt him, Elan," Sam suddenly snapped. "You hear me?"

"You boys want some good news? Sounds like you could use some," Safa said as she came on comms. "Got the fake file on the oversight committee hearing, along with one on Agent Martin Deeks. Your techs are pretty damn amazing, Hetty. Never seen David so frustrated. Couldn't get anywhere near the real thing so I suggested he take a break and get us some coffee. When he was gone I pulled up the files Nell sent and the one on Deeks Eric had created. David is now in love with me and Harrison has his proof."

"Won't matter if Marty's already dead," Elan said, his voice raw with emotion.

"Elan..."

"Don't worry Hetty," he said solemnly. "I won't kill the bastards. Not now anyway."

He stood and walked up toward the bow, silent and deadly looking as he slid a knife into the sheath behind his back. Sam got up to go after him, but heard the deep rumble of a boat's motor and kneeled, bringing his binoculars up and scanning the decks of the sleek white yacht as it approached. The lights in the main cabin were on and as it swung around to back into the slip, he could see people grouped around what looked like a bar. He couldn't tell what they were looking at until one man finally stepped away. A laptop was open and he assumed they were checking out the files just sent to them.

"I think they've got the files," he reported into comms.

"Any sign of Deeks?" Roy asked.

"No visual."

The unmistakable sound of arguing lofted over the water as the yacht slowly backed into the slip.

"Heads up," Elan said softly. "Three men coming down the dock."

Sam headed quickly toward the bow, crouching low as he moved along the far side of the boat's main cabin, slipping down beside Elan as he watched the men approach. All of them were armed, two of them with weapons out, one a sniper rifle. As the leader passed under the nearest floodlight, Elan breathed out a curse.

"It's Guidry," Elan whispered.

"What the hell's he doin' there?" Roy asked.

"Sam? Is Mr. Callen with him?" Hetty's voice under careful control.

"No."

The yacht cut its engine just as Guidry and his men got to the slip. A stillness hung over them all, the air smelling of diesel fuel and the only sounds the gentle rubbing of hulls against vinyl fenders and the metallic clinks from the rigging of nearby sailboats.

"Pierce!" Guidry shattered the silence with a voice deeply angry. "Git you ass out 'ere, ya fuckin' couyon."

"I suggest you remember whom you're talking to," Pierce said as he walked out to the stern.

"And you best 'member who de fuck I am," Guidry snarled. "I want my boy. And if he ain't breathin' when I see 'im, I gonna kill ever last one of you fuckers."

"Don't threaten me, Guidry," Pierce said, his anger tempered with surprise. "What makes you think he wouldn't be breathing?"

"Eliot told me what y'all did to 'im. The doc called to tell 'im, like he was proud or somethin'," Guidry growled and pulled his gun, pointing it directly at Pierce. "And dat cold blooded fuck Harrison is de one caused it."

"We thought he was a Fed," Harrison White said, calmly walking out with a drink in his hand. "Had to know for sure."

"Dat boy ain't no Fed," Guidry snapped.

"We know that now, but we couldn't chance it," Pierce said. "Now put the gun away."

"Ain't happenin' till I see Jimmy," he replied. "Go on up and git 'im, Tino."

The gangway had been lowered and Tino headed up, but one of the mercs stepped forward to block him from boarding and Guidry shot him, the deadly echo reverberating across the water.

"What the fuck?" Pierce shouted. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Bring dat boy ta me right now," Guidry said, his voice dangerously low. "Or I blow Harrison's fuckin head off next and den yours."

"Okay, okay...just calm the hell down," Pierce said. "Jacob? Have your men bring the kid down."

"He's alive, Guidry," Harrison White said, sounding nervous for the first time. "But he's not conscious. Soon as the drugs are out of his system, he'll be fine."

"We had an agreement, Guidry," Pierce said gruffly. "We have important changes to make in this country. Don't ruin those plans over this vulgar little thug."

"Watch you mouth, couyon," Guidry growled. "You forget who ya talkin' to? I no different den Jimmy as a kid, but you too dumb ta understan' dat. I told ya he was family. Shoulda listened."

Sam grabbed Elan's shoulder and held him down as two men walked out of the main cabin with Deeks' half naked body slung limply between them. He showed no signs of life, his bare feet dragging across the deck and down the gangway. Tino took him from them and Guidry's other man rushed to help him.

"He's barely breathin', Antoine," Tino said as they laid him down on the dock at Guidry's feet.

"Took alot of drugs ta leave 'im dis bad," Guidry growled, his aim never wavering.

"The dosage wasn't lethal, Guidry. Surely you understand we were just trying to loosen him up so he'd tell the truth," Pierce said, sounding arrogant once again. "You had no reason to kill our man. Now the local authorities will get involved and none of us need that kind of scrutiny. I suggest you leave before they get here."

"You full of bullshit, Pierce, and I ain't stupid," Guidry laughed. "Y'all just gonna hop on dat little jet of yours and go on back up ta Washington. Den your crew gonna haul ass out to de middle of de Gulf and toss dat body over de side."

"Not a bad plan, Newton," White said reasonably.

"Now git the doc down here," Guidry ordered. "He comin' wid us."

"He's not going to agree to that," Pierce said.

"Don't give a good goddamn," Guidry said. "Git 'im, or Prou here gonna shoot your ear off. You choose."

While they searched the boat for the doctor, Sam kept his eyes on Deeks. He lay completely still, and the longer he watched him the angrier he became. By the time the doctor was finally forced down the gangway, it took all of his resolve not to break cover so he could get Deeks to a hospital. Elan was practically vibrating with tension, pressing both fists into his forehead, unable to watch as Tino and Prou lifted Deeks and carried him off toward the parking lot. Guidry followed, pulling Ezra Mouton away from the yacht, his gun pressed into the back of his head.

"I have them in sight," Safa said softly. "I'll tail them and let you know where they're headed."

Sam was finding it hard to breathe and he could feel every beat of his heart. No one spoke for a long time until the footsteps of Pierce and his co-conspirators echoed off the dock and faded as the yacht roared to life and pulled away, leaving them all alone. He reached out to Elan, but he angrily slapped his hand away and silently stalked off.

"Guidry is protecting him just like you said he would, Roy," Sam finally said.

"Hate ta admit this, but he shocked the hell out of this ol' dickwad," Roy replied. "And y'all can tell Deeks I said so."

...

...


	25. Chapter 25

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 25_

...

Elan had never been an overly emotional man. Maybe he had inherited his stoic nature from his ancestors, or maybe because of the tough lessons his father had beaten into him from a young age, that revealing one's feelings brought suffering. Even his Uncle Jim kept his deeply held emotions tightly controlled. It was the Atwoods who had taught him what joy was. His cousins' easy going natures had allowed him to open up and express whatever he felt about what was happening around him without any painful consequences. George had treated him as one of his own from the beginning, his first hug an amazing revelation to someone unused to a loving father, and something he'd distrusted until the second one and then the third. He and Joe had become close as teenagers, often riding off together to talk about all sorts of things, but mostly girls or to think up pranks to play on his brother. He had found a family and had grown up strong and happy, his childhood adversity nothing but distant memories he had no further use for. And yet he remained rather reticent in his daily life.

His cousin Christopher's death in Iraq had hit him hard, but he'd had no time to grieve because it had hit Joe harder and he'd had to be strong for him, a solid rock his cousin could cling to in the turbulent sea of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him. Joining the service had been their response, but it had split them up and that had hurt more than he was prepared for. Becoming an Army Ranger became a way for him to focus his energy and the discipline had made him stronger, but it had also dampened his emotions. When he'd finally returned from the war he was different. All the carnage he'd seen, the killing, and the loss of good friends, had left him guarded and aloof, holding his feelings inside for a long time until Joe had almost been killed on an undercover assignment. He found he couldn't deal with it, the thought of losing him so overpowering that he simply left. He still felt guilty about that.

After wandering untethered for a while, he'd settled, spending months guiding tourists on horseback trips up into the Tetons out of Jackson Hole. New people every trip, no personal connections that might elicit an emotional response. When he'd finally called home, his uncle told him that Joe had recovered from his wounds and was getting married, shaming him into returning and making him wildly happy. A few days before the wedding George told him what had happened to Joe and about a man named Marty Deeks. A man who had saved Joe's life twice in the span of a few minutes. A man who eventually helped him find his lost son. A man who became his brother. A man he loved.

He had gone through hell with Marty and it had unleashed a well of emotions that had surprised him, but which he no longer fought. Having a young son had changed the way he looked at the world, opening up his heart to a myriad of new emotions he hadn't known existed. Family was everything to him now, and it had taken all the discipline he'd learned as an Army Ranger to keep from charging onto that dock when he saw Marty dragged off that boat. His stillness immediately filled him with debilitating fear and then such anxious rage that if Sam hadn't held him down, he would have killed all of the arrogant bastards on that boat and anyone else who tried to stop him from carrying his brother safely away.

The minute he'd heard over comms that Marty would be alone on that boat with those people, he had argued against it, but his concerns had been ignored. Marty had counted on him to stay close, and he'd promised that he would. He had promised he would come for him if he needed him, but he hadn't been able to do that. He had failed his brother and now he was in a dimly lit parking lot waiting to hear where Guidry and his men had taken him, afraid some voice would tell him they'd found his dead body by the side of the road.

Hetty had tried to talk to him, calmly speaking hope filled platitudes that only made him angry and he had rudely rebuked her efforts. Sam had cautioned him, but he didn't want to be cautious. He had done that and he deeply regretted he had listened to any of them. He didn't care about the mission as they did, even though he knew he should. His ranger training made him almost predisposed to follow orders, but he wasn't a soldier anymore, or in a chain of command. He was a brother looking out for his brother, and he was growing very tired of being told to wait.

"I know where they're going," Safa shouted into his ear, and Elan felt his heart race. "Tulane Medical Center is just up ahead. I'll be damned...the bastard is taking him to the ER."

"We're coming to you," Sam said as he peeled out of the lot and headed uptown.

He suddenly felt hopeful as Sam gripped his forearm, his eyes filled with intensity.

"Safa and I won't be able to go in. The men with Guidry might be the ones who tried to kill me," he said. "But you can, Elan. You'll have to be our eyes and ears in there."

Elan expelled all the air in his body, unaware he had even been holding his breath. He felt a strong adrenaline rush, anxious to be there, to see his brother, to feel the beating of his heart and expel the fear that clung to him.

"No weapons. No names," Sam ordered. "Just observe and report. Got it?"

"You SEALs sure love giving orders," Elan said, the action finally snapping him out of his funk.

"Just don't do anything stupid, ranger," Sam voice was strong, but there was a touch of humor there as well.

"I need to see him, Sam."

"I know," his reply full of kindness.

The silence that followed had weight as though all of his questions hung there in the darkness of the car. Time paused as if unimportant, and yet he wanted to will it forward, to rush with it as if on the back of his black horse, racing the wind. His mind became filled with images of Marty with that wide cocky grin, his laugh so infectious he wanted to laugh in response, even in his uncertainty. He tried to distract himself, staring out the window at the locked doors and unseeing windows of stores and restaurants and darkened houses. All the life of the city seemed to be holding its breath, waiting as he was to find out what mattered most. Did his heart still beat? Would his mind be unchanged if it did? Was he angry? Would he blame him? Did that matter? Nothing did if he had passed on, forever out of his reach, never to smile, or kiss his love, or know the boundless joy of having a child. He wanted him to live for all those reasons, but most of all he selfishly wanted to feel the warmth of his brotherhood.

"He can't be gone..." He whispered.

"Stay focused, ranger," Sam said sharply, the order snapping him free of his troublesome thoughts. "He needs you to do that."

"You're scared too," he replied.

"But you can't be," Sam said. "You have to be aware at all times. Observant. Deceptive. Under the radar as much as possible for a man your size, with hair halfway down his back."

Elan nodded and pulled his hair back, knotting it at the base of his neck. "No one will know I was even there...I'm Arapaho."

"You're also full of bullshit," Sam smiled and slapped him on the shoulder as they approached the hospital.

Safa stepped out of a doorway and Sam pulled quickly over to the curb a block down from the entrance to ER. They quickly got out and she explained she had followed them to the emergency bay, where Doctor Mouton had gone in and brought out help and a gurney. She couldn't hear what was said, but after Deeks had been taken inside, Guidry and his men drove off and parked in the dark reaches of the parking lot where they could watch from afar.

"I didn't think they would actually bring him here," she admitted softly.

"Was he moving?" Sam's question causing Elan to flinch.

"I'm sorry...no...he wasn't," she replied.

"You're on Elan," Sam said.

"Wait! You're sending him in there?" Safa blurted out. "He's a hothead."

"I am not a hothead. I'm his brother," Elan replied evenly, tightly controlling his anger.

"Which makes you too emotional," she charged. "Guidry's smart. If you make a mistake and give yourself away because you lack the ability to be patient, then your brother won't survive this."

"Don't you think I know that?" He asked, suddenly angry as she stepped in front of him.

"You've never been undercover before, have you?" Defying him and igniting his temper. "It should be us going in, Sam. We're the professionals."

"One of Guidry's men might have seen us before. If we get made, it's over. You know that," Sam reasoned with her.

"He'll stand out looking like that," she insisted.

"There are Native Americans in Louisiana, right?" Elan asked.

"Damn right there are," Roy confirmed enthusiastically in their ears. "My daddy had Choctaw blood."

"So I'm not that unusual looking for around here," Elan said as he walked around her and headed for the hospital.

"That doctor's still in there," she called after him and he knew she had finally run out of objections.

Elan walked steadily forward, his mind now on how to make himself invisible once he simply wandered in. He glanced around the empty streets, traffic sporadic this early in the morning, only a few cars heading in the same direction he was. He kept his head down as if lost in his own thoughts, which in a way he was. Slumping his shoulders and slouching so he wouldn't look too intimidating, he walked past an ambulance and entered the emergency room.

"Use some of that French you keep braggin' you learned," Roy said in his ear. "Most native peoples here speak it."

He appreciated the advice, and having the odd man's familiar voice in his ear. His only response was a softly uttered French swear word Lily had taught him as he checked out his surroundings. The ER was quieter than he thought it would be, except for a couple of guys trying to explain why they were bloodied and missing their pants. Most of the people sat silently waiting their turn as staff assisted the more needy patients onto waiting gurneys or into exam areas, noisily sliding curtains around them for privacy. The urge to charge forward and rip every curtain open to find his brother was so strong he stopped in the middle of the room until he had some measure of control. An intern asked him if he needed help, but he simply shook his head no and she moved on. A cluster of people occupied one corner, crying and hugging one another as a doctor spoke quietly to them. The scene chilled him and he slumped into one of the pale blue plastic chairs unnoticed, hoping he would see the doctor he'd observed while on overwatch earlier in the day.

It was the sudden yell for a crash cart that made his muscles tighten, and his heart race. The rush of activity was frightening in its intensity, and he instinctively knew it was all for Marty. He jumped up without thinking, uncertain what to do, knowing he shouldn't reveal his interest, but desperate to know what was happening. He wasn't aware of the people around him, and froze when someone touched his arm.

"Hard to get used to, ain't it?" A young man said.

"What?"

"Being back. Hearin' the sound of men dyin'," he said. "I still jump like you just did whenever I hear loud noises. Can't seem to shake it."

He looked into the sad brown eyes of one of the bloody men with no pants. He had tears in his eyes as he watched the crash cart being rushed behind the curtain.

"You injured or just waitin'?" The young man asked.

"Waiting."

"They're probably tryin' to save that blond guy who OD'd," he said quietly. "Looked dead when they brought him in."

Elan choked out a low moan and the man eyed him curiously.

"Hey man...he a friend?"

Elan only managed to nod, unmoving and distraught.

"Was you army?" The kid asked.

"Rangers."

"Sonofabitch! Bet you seen worse than I did," the kid said. "Listen...I know one of the nurses. Used to date 'er. Want me to find out how your buddy's doin'?"

"Yeah...thanks, man. Just don't let her know who's asking...okay?" he said, gripping the young man's shoulder.

"Won't get ya in trouble, buddy," he replied with a soft smile. "Us vets gotta stick together."

The young man limped over to the nurse's station and began chatting with a plain looking dark haired woman with glasses. She looked up at him and smiled, and then turned toward the action down toward the back, finally getting up as she picked up a chart. She spent a couple of minutes flirting, squeezing his arm before walking back toward the section where the crash cart had gone. She pushed the curtain aside, allowing him to see several doctors working urgently over a patient, but he couldn't tell if it was his brother or not, until he saw Doctor Mouton. He was standing off to the side and looked scared to death, nervously biting his fingernails and running his hand through his sparse gray hair.

Elan wanted to strangle the man. He'd done this to Marty and now his brother was fighting for his life. He hadn't realized he'd begun to move closer, and when he did, he couldn't stop himself. He had to see his face. No one paid any attention as he walked slowly over by one of the empty gurneys pushed back against the far wall and leaned against it, sucking in his breath when he saw his brother.

Marty was an active man. A surfer. Always tan and vibrant. He loved to ride with him because he was always laughing, even when he lost a race. But not now. Now he was pale, his body limp and unresponsive, his hair a tangled mass that obscured part of his face. His body glistened with sweat as the doctors worked on him, and it took everything he had not to go to him. When one of the doctors yelled clear, he flinched as Marty's body arced up off the gurney from the electric shock of the defibrillator. After another shock, he heard the regular beep of the heart monitor and saw the doctors relax slightly. He was too far away to hear what they were saying, and Marty was still unconscious, but he was alive and he began to have some hope.

Mouton spoke briefly to the doctors and after shaking one's hand he turned and walked quickly toward the exit without a backward glance at the man he had put here.

"Any news? Is he alive? Yes or no?" Sam asked, his voice tense and concerned.

"Yes," he said behind his hand.

"Just spotted the doc coming out," Sam continued. "He's looking around. Probably trying to find Guidry."

"You okay, Elan?" Roy asked.

"Fine."

He watched the dark haired nurse talk to one of the doctors working on Marty and he slowly began to walk back to the waiting area. He slumped down into the plastic chair and bent forward, his elbows grinding into his knees as he rubbed his hands over his face and tried to stop shivering. With no way to relieve the stress he was feeling or the anger he felt toward the men who had done this, he simply quivered with excess energy.

"Hey, man," the young vet said as he sat next to him. "Gloria said they're taking him up to a room in a little while. She's gonna let me know the number. Told her he was a friend of mine."

"Thanks buddy," Elan said. "I appreciate your help."

"No prob, man," the kid said. "Friends call me Ozzie or Oz."

"Elan," he replied, anxiously rubbing a hand over the closed fist beneath his chin.

"You look like you want to take somebody out, man," Oz said. "You was a meat eater weren't ya?"

Elan hadn't heard that particular piece of military jargon in quite awhile, but it suited the way he was feeling. He hadn't been with Special Forces, but he had been on missions in some of the toughest areas in Afghanistan, and this guy had recognized the look in his eye.

"He shouldn't be here," Elan said, his voice heavy and menacing.

"Got it. Listen man...I'm gonna take off for a little bit, okay?" Oz said, suddenly sounding nervous as he edged away. "Gloria's gonna fit me out with some hospital scrubs. I'll come back with the room number, soon as I know...I promise. Hope your buddy's gonna be okay."

"Ya sure as hell scared the crap outa that guy," Roy said, as the man hurried away. "Don't go lettin' off steam in the middle of the damn ER."

"Shut the fuck up."

Elan was walking the edge now, and as much as he needed to pull himself back, he was finding it difficult to get his emotions under control.

"Take a walk outside, Elan," Sam ordered.

"Can't do that," he replied stubbornly.

"I told you it was dangerous to send him in there," Safa said and it pissed him off.

"Elan?"

"Callen?"

No one said anything for a few seconds, but Elan was flooded with relief at the sound of his voice in his ear and moved to a far corner empty of people, sinking down to sit on the floor. He sat hunched over, his hands clasped behind his head as it hung between his knees. He worked on controlling his breathing as the others all began talking at once, until Callen angrily told them to shut up, sounding more like Jake Hale than the levelheaded federal agent he was.

"One of Guidry's men just told me what happened," Callen said. "Soon as he left I got on comms. Heard a little of your conversation, Elan. I know you're in the hospital. Is he still alive?"

"Yeah, Cuz. He's alive," Elan said softly. "But he's in bad shape. Still unconscious."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Elan heard the tremor in his voice, and knew he was just as scared as he was. "He crashed, brother...but they got him back...they got him back. He's okay for now..."

"I'm coming," he replied, his voice tight. "Guidry wants me to stay with him until he recovers."

"I'll be here," Elan replied.

He listened to Sam tell Callen the full story, with a few interruption from Roy, but he added nothing himself. When they finally stopped rehashing it all, he felt drained of energy and got up to look for a vending machine. He was on his second cup of weak coffee and stuffing his mouth full of a stale donut he'd found in an abandoned pink box when he saw Oz headed his way.

"Hey, man," Oz said. "Been lookin' for you. Your friend's in Room 3209."

The former soldier's kindness touched him and he grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a quick hug, mumbling his thanks and embarrassing the kid. They said their goodbyes by the elevator, his heart racing as the doors closed and it rose to the third floor. The corridors were eerily empty and he snuck by the nurses' station while two black women hovered over a computer screen with their backs turned. He moved silently through the halls, pausing only briefly at one of the large windows that overlooked the city, noticing that the long, dark night was finally shading toward dawn. As he was about to turn a corner, he had to hurriedly step back when he heard voices, waiting until they faded before taking a peek. The hall was empty and dimly lit, and he walked quickly to the door he was interested in.

Multicolored lights blinked on the monitors and numbers glowed and changed in the semidarkness as Marty slept. He was on oxygen and an IV pole stood sentinel next to his bed, the clear saline dripping steadily into the tube that snaked down to his arm. Elan moved closer and took his hand, letting his eyes adjust to the low glow of light above the bed. There was no response to his touch, his hand remaining limp and clammy as he clasped it in his own. He could see a couple of darkening bruises on his pale face, and his lower lip was cut and puffy. His anger stirred as he watched him breathe, and he realized he was angry with himself for not getting him out of there and angry at the team for leaving him in the hands of such sick bastards. They might not have had a choice, but he sure as hell didn't have to like it, and it did nothing to ease his own guilt. He was lost in regret when he felt Marty's fingers curl around the back of his hand and he held his breath and waited to see if he would open his eyes.

"Name's...Jimmy..." The words were barely a whisper, but they were full of desperation and a touch defiance that made him smile.

"You're safe now," Elan dared to say, unsure if it would be wise to pull him out of his alias.

Deeks eyes fluttered open for a moment, as his tongue licked out at his dry lips, hissing when it touched the cut.

"Jake?...you here?"

Marty's hand gripped his tightly and his eyes searched his face, but he didn't seem to recognize him and that scared him badly.

"Hey, Cuz," Elan said, using the familiar name he'd called all of them at one time or the other.

"Elan? No...no...you shouldn't be here, brother," Deeks' eyes were wide now, panicking as he looked wildly around the room.

"It's just the two of us, Marty," he said gently as he squeezed his shoulder. "You're in a hospital. You OD'd."

He closed his eyes at that, breathing heavily through his mouth and nodding as if remembering it all. "How did I get here? Did you guys take 'em out?"

"Guidry and a couple of his men came and got you," Elan said. "He's the one who brought you here."

"Seriously?" His blue eyes glazing over with tears.

"Shocked the shit out of all of us, too," he replied, finally able to smile. "He even shot the guy you beat up."

Deeks slowly nodded at that and then closed his eyes and drifted off. Elan listened to Sam and Safa, and then Roy talking over comms, and he could hear the same relief in their voices that he was feeling. Safa even apologized, but he didn't reply to any of them, satisfied to simply wait beside his brother's bed and watch him sleep.

There was real fear in his expression when he suddenly woke and Elan tightened his grip on his hand. "Elan? Did I...did I give anything up?"

"No, Cuz. Not a damn thing," Elan assured him. "Eric and Nell created some fake files and modified a photo of you. When the team got it to Pierce they finally believed Harrison White was wrong."

"Don't remember much except for hearing Hetty's voice in my head...and a couple of gut punches," he said quietly. "Then nothing after that last injection."

"You mumbled a lot and cussed like my old drill sergeant," Elan said with a smile. "But you were Jimmy Hale all the way."

"I was afraid I'd get G killed," he murmured.

"He's on his way here," Elan told him. "Guidry sent for him."

"Guidry really shot a guy?" He asked.

"He was mad as hell, Marty," Elan replied. "I think he would have killed Pierce and White if they hadn't brought you out."

"Why the fuck would he do that?" Deeks asked.

"He totally believes you're Jimmy Hale," Sam said over comms. "Called you family. How does that make you feel?"

Deeks didn't react or respond, and Elan looked at him quizzically, wondering if he'd zoned out before realizing he hadn't heard it.

"You still have your earwig?" He asked.

Deeks reached up to his ear and his eyes widened as he shook his head.

"What if White found it?" Deeks asked, looking shaken.

"You'd be dead," Elan said quietly. "Someone on the medical staff must have discovered it. Callen can deal with that when he gets here."

His brother smiled softly and began to blink slowly, his energy fading fast, and Elan felt the long night getting to him as well. The exhaustion he felt actually helped him relax, numbing his anger and dulling his remaining fear.

"I'm sorry, Marty," he finally offered.

"For what, brother?"

"For not getting you out of there before they did this to you," he replied, looking away with regret.

"I never expected you to storm the boat like one of The Avengers, Elan," Deeks replied, with a soft grin. "I just wanted you to come get me if I jumped overboard, which I seriously considered, by the way."

"I would have stormed the boat..."

"They would have shot you to pieces," Deeks said softly, and then cracked a smile. "You don't have a impenetrable shield like Captain America, you know."

"Yeah...you're right," he admitted. "But if I'd had Iron Man's suit I would have torn those bastards apart."

"I know you would, but I think of you more as Hawkeye," Deeks said, raising one eyebrow with a calculating stare.

"Yeah? Just 'cause I'm Arapaho, doesn't mean I'm an expert with a bow," Elan laughed. "So who would Callen be?"

"Captain America," he replied firmly.

"Does that make you Bucky Barnes?" Elan asked.

"Could have used the Winter Soldier's robotic arm," Deeks said with a sigh, growing serious. "I would have crushed Harrison White's ugly face."

"What about Sam?" He asked, trying to distract him from the painful memories.

"Has to be either the Hulk or Thor," Deeks said with a cocky grin.

"The Hulk," they both instantly said in unison, laughing as they used to, giving the situation a touch of normalcy.

Sam grumpily argued he wasn't green and Safa made a case for herself as the Black Widow, but Elan didn't respond and Deeks couldn't hear them. Their conversation waned and Deeks' eyes became heavy and he finally fell back asleep, leaving Elan satisfied that he would recover, but still fearful about what came next. This mission wasn't over, and the danger hadn't changed. His brother would have to go back to being Jimmy Hale and his concern would be rekindled.

He heard the door open and reached for a knife that wasn't there as he rose smoothly from the chair to face the intruder.

"Sorry...didn't mean to interrupt," The nurse said easily. "Just need to check his vitals. Were you here all night?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied, surprised he wasn't told to leave.

"I'm just going to assume you're family. It helps to have friends and family around when a patient wakes up," she said as she checked Deeks' pulse and blood pressure.

"Don't know the visiting hours...I just needed to be with him," Elan said.

"Family is welcome here anytime, day or night," she replied. "The doctor will be in to check on him a little later. He'll probably recommend a psych evaluation. Need to make sure he doesn't do this to himself again."

"He didn't do this," he said sharply. "He's not a junkie."

"Of course not. I didn't mean to upset you, sir," she said nervously as Elan unwittingly took a step toward her.

"I know he looks intimidating, ma'am, but he's really just a big old teddy bear," Callen drawled as he leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb. "Loves my little brother."

"I understand," she said, looking from one to the other.

Callen looked rough as if he hadn't slept. His longish hair was mussed up and his T-shirt wrinkled and dirty, as were his jeans. His blue eyes were fierce, and never left his brother's face and Elan could tell he made the nurse even more nervous, and she quickly left. He closed the door behind her, going immediately to Deeks' side, needing to touch him just as much as he had.

"How's he doin'?" Callen asked as he tentatively ruffled his hair.

"He's been awake a few times," Elan said as he eased up beside him. "Joked a little even...he's a tough sonofabitch, Cuz."

"Those bastards roughed him up too," Callen said under his breath, and Elan could hear the barely suppressed anger.

"It was hard to listen to, brother," he said, dropping his head.

The hard grip of Callen' hand around the back of his neck, surprised him, but the hug even more so. Neither one was terribly expressive with the other. They had never hugged one another before, and rarely even shook hands, but now thy couldn't control their emotions, coming together as brothers because of the man sleeping beside them. Deeks had brought them together and he was the reason their emotions were kindled now. They shared the same fear of losing him and his ordeal had angered them both deeply. Their love for him is what made them cling to one another, the sense of relief that he was alive and breathing overcoming their natural reticence.

"Get a room you two," Deeks' sleepy sounding comment made them break apart, both looking embarrassed by their loss of control.

"Hey little brother," Callen choked out. "You okay?"

"Will be," he replied. "Hungry though. The bastards didn't even feed me. Guidry ain't around is he?"

"No. He and the others are takin' the doc up to the Gator Lake camp," Callen told him, both of them sounding more like Jake and Jimmy as they talked.

"Hope he's crappin' in his pants," Deeks said softly. "The prick enjoyed pumpin' me full of that shit."

"Can you two just drop the aliases for a little while?" Elan finally asked. "I'm really getting sick of Jimmy and Jake Hale."

"You haven't slept have you?" Callen asked, sounding concerned. "I'll stand watch if you want to grab a nap."

"He's definitely strung out," Deeks said. "Thought he was Captain America, but I told him that was you."

"I never said that," Elan replied.

"Wanted to storm the boat and rescue me like he was one of the Avengers or something," Deeks said, smiling now.

"I dressed up like Captain America once for one of Hetty's parties," Callen admitted with a smirk. "I looked damn heroic."

"It sure as hell showed off your tight ass," Deeks giggled.

"I don't have a tight ass," Callen frowned.

Elan listened to them snipe at one another and it felt normal and real, like family. When Sam came on comms to join in the kibitzing, he yawned and sprawled in the chair, his exhaustion finally getting to him. He hadn't slept for over twenty-four hours, but until now he couldn't have. Seeing Marty smiling was what he needed. His emotions had calmed, but he still felt protective, of both of them. The hug from Callen had been unexpected. The man usually stayed aloof, even standoffish when George tried to hug him, but seeing Marty alive had broken down his normal, hardheaded defenses, his emotions as raw as his own. A simple hug was better than words sometimes. Callen had once told him Marty had taught him that.

Was it fear or love that made them vulnerable? Maybe fear was a natural expression that came from loving someone so deeply, one of the many emotions that came bundled up with that complex emotion you couldn't really explain or describe. He didn't think Callen could tell him how he came to love Deeks as a brother, anymore than he could. Joe had never doubted it, Callen wasn't afraid of it anymore and he was unashamed of his own feelings. They were an odd family with painful pasts, who learned late in life that they could find joy in loving each other as brothers. Now all he had to do was manage the fear that stalked that love from the long shadows of this ongoing mission.

...

...


	26. Chapter 26

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 26_

...

His dream was filled with a mass of black vultures flying in circles above his head and he broke from his sleep gasping out the name of a man he did not want to be. His heart thudded in his chest and anger strangled his voice as a firm hand clamped down on his arm.

"Get the fuck away from me," he finally choked out, fighting his way out of his nightmare.

"Deeks."

He turned toward the familiar voice and ceased his struggle, his dream now just vapors trailing away in the sun filled room. A strong urge to get up and run remained, but the intense blue eyes of his brother gave him a measure of assurance that he was safe and he took a deep, calming breath.

"Sorry...bad dream," he whispered.

"Not surprised," Callen said.

"Where's Elan?"

"Early dinner run. Our vending machine lunch didn't cut it," Callen answered. "He's bringing coffee too."

"What about Guidry?" Deeks asked.

"Don't you remember? I told you earlier that he was headed back to camp. Probably there by now," he replied. "Guess Guidry trusts us for real now."

"Yeah...too bad Pierce and his gang of pervs didn't," Deeks said.

"Hey, kid...I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop them. I should have tried harder to stay with you," Callen looked torn up as he spoke and Deeks had the urge to comfort him. "Guidry was still mad as hell this morning when I told him you were doing okay. Are you, brother?"

"Am I what? Okay?"

"Yeah...are you? You've been sleeping a lot and mumbling all kinds of stuff I couldn't understand. I'll listen if you need to talk," Callen said with concern.

"You're just a regular Dr. Phil now, aren't you?" Deeks snapped, suddenly pissed.

"No...I'm just your brother," Callen didn't react to his anger and he instantly regretted his remark.

"Thought Sam filled you in," he murmured.

"I'm guessing he didn't tell me everything."

"Let's just say I was the evening's entertainment at the Newton Pierce Porn Palace, starring Jacqueline Bennet and yours truly," he replied. "Apparently they like to watch, among other things. Got a feeling it's a regular event for those assholes."

"They didn't dress you up or anything, did they?" Callen smirked. "Make you come out and dance like Magic Mike?"

"You think it's funny?" Deeks asked, flustered by the change in tone.

"Kinda is," he replied with a smile. "And you probably would have done yourself proud until they shot you up with scopolamine mixed with chloroform and something else the doctors have yet to identify."

"Oh yeah...I was just lovin' being handcuffed and fondled by fucking white collar terrorists," he replied sullenly.

"Then you're really gonna love what I had to tell the doctors and nurses about you," Callen said. "They wanted to get the police involved when they got the tox screen back, so..."

"What the hell did you tell 'em?"

"I told them you didn't want to press charges..." Callen seemed to be finding it very hard not to laugh.

"And why was that?" He asked nervously.

"I told them you were a male prostitute," he replied, holding his hands up as Deeks sputtered out a stream of swear words and physical threats. "Told them you were hired for a party with high end clients and government officials and that things just got out of hand."

"And they bought that?"

"Oh yeah, they did," Callen smirked. "They didn't even look surprised. It is New Orleans. One of the interns even asked for your card. Thought I was your pimp."

"Dressed like that?" Deeks finally just shook his head and laughed. "You sure as hell wouldn't make it as a pimp dressed like that in LA."

Callen slowly became serious again, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, and Deeks could sense he was trying to hide his remaining anger.

"I talked to Hetty," Callen said quietly. "If you want to be pulled out, she can arrange it."

"What? Why?"

"The doctor said your heart stopped. You died, brother, and they had to resuscitate you," he said. "It wouldn't be hard to convince Guidry that you took a turn for the worse and didn't make it. Hetty will take care of the details."

"And leave you without backup? No way," he said, pushing himself up to face him. "I earned the right to get these bastards, G. You and Hetty owe me that."

"What's going on?" Elan said as he walked into the room.

"They want to pull me out," Deeks said weakly as he slumped back into the pillows.

"Good idea," Elan replied as he set down a greasy bag and a carrier with three coffees. "They almost killed you, Marty."

"Seriously? You want me to leave G all alone out there?" Deeks asked, stressed by the mere thought of it. "I can't do that, Elan. I'll be fine."

"Y'all havin' a fight without me?" Roy Blanchard asked as he sauntered in. "Best keep your voices down and the door closed. Anybody passin' by could hear y'all."

"Should you be here?" Callen asked.

"Any reason I shouldn't be?" He shot back, sounding grumpier than normal. "I listened to every damn thing those fucks put your brother through, and it pissed me off. Thought I should come see how he's doin' for myself. Brought 'im a new earwig too."

"Didn't think you had a heart to care, dickwad," Deeks said with a quick grin.

"You must be feelin' better, boy, if you're back to shovelin' that weak shit," he laughed. "Still an all, you don't look like you could hold your dick up to pee, let alone back up your partner if things go sideways up at The Brotherhood camp."

"As much as I appreciate the descriptive comment on my health, I'm not letting you pull me out," Deeks said, feeling defiant and growing angrier by the second.

"Hetty might have somethin' to say about that," Roy said before snagging a fry out of the bag. "Put in your earwig, kid. She's waitin'."

Elan handed him one of the coffees and he drank deeply and appreciatively, using the time to put off the inevitable. He didn't want to talk to Hetty, although he did as Roy said, snugging in the earwig without further comment. He probably did need to thank her for being in his head throughout most of his ordeal. He'd hung on her every word, counting on her to get him through all those questions Harrison White demanded answers to. He had no idea what he would have said without her much needed prompts.

"Good morning Mr. Deeks," the familiar cadence comforting in spite of his desire to rebel against her authority.

"Hetty."

"How are you feeling?" She asked gently. "And don't try and bullshit me. I heard everything. Remember that."

"I'm extremely tired and pissed off that you want to pull me out," he said, unwilling to back down.

"Give me a good reason I should let you stay, Mr. Deeks," she said.

"Guidry shot a guy and was ready to kill Pierce and White. What's he gonna do if Callen tells him I'm dead? Do you want him to kill those bastards before we find out who else is involved?"

"That's a rather astute assessment for a man who couldn't form a complete sentence last night," Hetty said. "And you're right. That is something we need to take into consideration."

"It's a damn good point, Hetty," Sam said on comms. "Safa and I have cleared the area. No one's watching as far as we can tell. We're coming in. Let's hash this out together and plan our next move."

"I suppose it's our best chance for all of us to meet without prying eyes," Hetty replied. "I'm just sorry this meeting is taking place in the hospital room of one of my agents."

"Some of that blame falls on me," Callen said bitterly, his anger flashing out once again as Deeks protested vehemently.

"Mr. Deeks is right, Mr. Callen. The only people at fault are Pierce and his cronies," she replied.

When they heard the door open their argument went silent and Deeks saw Elan and Callen both reach for weapons. He was just glad the nurse didn't.

"I see your brother and the rest of your family has found you, Mr. Hale," the stocky little nurse drawled out cheerily as she check his vitals and adjusted the drip on his IV. "A loving family makes hard times a lot easier to bear, don't you think? For a little while there we didn't think you'd make it. Y'all should know how lucky he is."

After a few mumbled responses she turned to leave and Deeks asked the question they all wanted to know. "Got any idea when they're gonna let me out of here?"

"You don't want to rush your recovery, punkin," she chirped. "But I'll let the doctor know you're asking. He'll be around to see you in a couple of hours."

When she pulled open the door to leave, she stopped abruptly, greeted by an almost unrecognizable Sam Hanna. He was wearing sunglasses, a black New Orleans Saints ball cap, and a camo tank top that showed off his muscles and his dark tats. A heavy gold chain completed his outfit and Deeks smiled when he saw Callen turn away so the nurse wouldn't see him silently laughing. The woman looked stunned, and shot a worried glance back at them all, before hurrying out of the room.

"'Sup, dogs?" Sam asked with a wide smile.

"I definitely need a picture of this to send Michelle," Callen said as he pulled his phone. "Kam probably won't even recognize you."

"Heard Jimmy Boy here been workin' the streets," Sam said like a gangsta.

"Don't call me that," Deeks shot back, his smile instantly gone.

The disturbing contempt in Newton Pierce's voice crawled back into his mind and he found himself trembling. The remembered lack of control over his own mind and body left him feeling disconnected and angry with the team, wondering if they really understood how desperately alone he'd felt, even with Hetty in his ear. The second injection they had rammed into his vein had scared him badly. Fear of revealing his true identity and especially Callen's, haunted the wild, swirling hallucinations it produced. He had expected to die. And according to his brothers he did die, and however briefly that was it still made him feel vulnerable and at odds with the men around him.

Sam placed a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, his face full of an apology he seemed to have trouble putting into words. When he looked up at him, the shades were gone and so was the hat. It was just Sam's placid face and concerned eyes staring back at him.

"I didn't mean to make fun of what you went through, Deeks."

He knew that, but his irritation persisted. "Let's just talk about what happens next."

A somber mood now hung over the room and it's what Safa immediately picked up on when she entered. "I thought you'd all be happy your friend survived. What did I miss?"

"Poor attempt at humor," Sam confessed.

"I'm betting you never touched drugs your entire life. Right, Sam?" She asked. "Any of you been shot up to the gills with shit and interrogated like Deeks was? Cause if the answer is no, you have no idea what he went through or what he's going through right now."

"And you do?" Callen asked.

"First of all, who are you?" She demanded.

"G Callen...aka Jake Hale," he answered. "I'm Deeks' undercover partner. Just a wild guess here...you're Safa Jordan."

"You're smarter than you look," she said sharply.

"And you're saying you've been drugged and interrogated?" Callen smirked, sounding unconvinced and dismissive and Safa stiffened at the implied rebuke.

"Who the hell would lie about a thing like that?" Safa snapped back. "The only difference was I didn't have a bunch of knuckleheads like you guys looking out for me when I came out the other side."

"Not a good idea to piss her off, G," Sam said with a smile.

"Don't pull away from your friends, Deeks," she advised softly, ignoring the men around her. "They may not understand what you're feeling, but they obviously care about you. They were scared and probably still are. Just like you."

"These guys don't scare that easily," Deeks said, shaking his head at the thought.

"I was on comms with them," she said quietly. "Anger is a good way to cover your fear, and they were pissed."

"She's right, Deeks," Sam confessed. "We were scared. And frustrated as hell. The point being...we don't want you to go back in if you're not up to it. Physically or mentally. It's too dangerous. So, be honest. Can you do this?"

"Yeah...I can. I need to," he replied.

Just speaking the words gave him strength. He could see some residual doubt in their expressions, especially in Elan's eyes, but he sensed relief from Callen and that was all he needed.

"Does anyone have any doubts at all about this?" Hetty asked. "If so, speak up now, or Mr. Deeks will get his way."

"If he says he can do it, I believe him," Elan finally said. "Doesn't mean I like it."

"We're good, Hetty," Callen said.

"Mr. Deeks your wish is granted," she replied.

"You sound just like a fairy godmother, Hetty," Deeks grinned cockily.

"I'm afraid I'm far from it, Mr. Deeks," she replied. "If I was I wouldn't be the bearer of bad news."

"What's happened?" Callen asked.

"Safa will not be returning to the task force."

"Excuse me?" Safa looked stunned. "Why not?"

"Two hours ago, David Pham's body was discovered in St. Louis Cemetery...number three I believe," Hetty informed them. "He'd been beaten and had his throat cut. The police are calling it a robbery gone bad. However, we have to assume that Harrison White was getting rid of the man he'd had searching through classified documents for him. I'm afraid he was a loose end. We also have to assume Mr. Pham may have told him about you before he was killed."

"David was a good man," Safa said, sounding shaken. "But, won't pulling me out make Harrison suspicious?"

"I've been on the phone with your boss, Morgan Bellamy," Hetty replied. "He has informed Mr. White that you were needed for a highly classified assignment in an undisclosed location overseas, and that you were on a flight out last night."

"But if David Pham gave her up..." Callen questioned.

"Red flag for damn sure," Roy said.

"I agree, it's a risk. We'll just have to hope he didn't," Hetty replied.

"I'm thinking White probably ordered Pham taken out as soon as he left the office last night," Sam offered. "No reason to wait. Take him out immediately, before he has a chance to talk to anyone."

"Sounds like something the asshole would do," Deeks said quietly.

"Safa? Welcome to the team," Hetty said. "You're expertise will be invaluable."

"I'll do whatever it takes to get these bastards," she replied. "David had a wife and a baby girl. Harrison knew that."

"Sonofabitch." Deeks wiped at his sudden tears, his emotions uncontrollable, and he could see how much that bit of information had affected the others as well.

"We need a plan to take these amoral bastards down," Hetty said.

"Why don't we just let them kill each other," Deeks said bitterly.

"Actually...that's not a bad idea," Callen said.

"Guidry was ready to kill everyone on that boat last night," Sam added.

"Pierce is planning to massacre The Brotherhood," Deeks said. "That's one of the few things I do remember from last night."

"They assumed Mr. Deeks wouldn't recall what was said," Hetty said. "But we recorded every word. Whatever you don't remember I can simply feed you your lines as if we were doing a play, Mr. Deeks."

"If Deeks tells Guidry what he heard, we might be able to convince him to take out Pierce and his people first," Callen said. "Or at least turn him against Pierce long enough to foil his plans and find out who the rest of the traitors are."

"Either way, getting Pierce and his friends together again and within Guidry's reach won't be easy," Sam asked. "They're not stupid. They have to know he's still pissed about what they did to Jimmy."

"We'll just have to see how it plays out," Callen replied. "Guidry might have an idea how to do that."

"He's a wild card," Roy warned. "No tellin' what he'll do, so be careful what y'all wish for. Could be a bloodbath. Not sure you want that."

"They still want Guidry to assassinate the Attorney General and his second in command," Hetty commented. "And those two have been informed about the danger they're in."

"Do they know who's involved?" Callen asked.

"I haven't told them yet," she replied lightly.

"Bet that pissed 'em off," Roy said.

"They weren't pleased, but they did agree to let me continue running this operation," she replied. "Too many chiefs can cause things to go south very quickly."

"And we don't know who all the Washington players are yet in Pierce's little coup attempt," Safa said. "The Attorney General could say something to the wrong person and the whole thing blows up in our faces."

"So to speak," Callen smirked. "Get it?...bombing chemical plants..."

"Was that some sad attempt to be funny?" Safa asked, eyeing him with irritation.

"Normally it would be Deeks making wiseass comments," Callen responded, looking slightly rattled. "But he's a little off his game right now."

"You're a very weird man," Safa replied.

"You have no idea," Sam added.

"Enough...all of you," Hetty scolded. "Mr. Beale and Miss Jones have been digging into the backgrounds of Pierce and his people and their close associates over the years. Safa's boss, Assistant Attorney General Bellamy of the NSD was more than willing to return to his early covert roots when I informed him that Jacqueline Bennet was a person of interest. He has agreed to personally place a few bugs in her office and monitor them himself. I believe he called her 'that bitch' before quickly apologizing for his language. I'm sure there's a long story there."

"Not sure I want to hear it," Deeks said.

"Me either," Safa murmured.

"Mr. Bellamy will keep me informed of his findings," Hetty continued. "Any new names that keep popping up will be added to our list of possible co-conspirators. Until then, let's keep these two groups apart. Pierce can't carry out his plans without Guidry and The Brotherhood, so let's drive a very large wedge between the two. Whatever it takes. Bloodbath or no."

"For the greater good, Hetty?" Callen asked.

"Always, Mr. Callen," she replied. "Better them than the innocent people along the Mississippi."

"I don't think Guidry liked the idea of polluting the river," Deeks said. "We can use that."

"We have been given the authority to do whatever it takes to stop these bastards," she replied. "Now, I believe Mr. Deeks might like some privacy. He has a personal phone call he needs to take."

Roy smiled as he handed Deeks a satphone, and the others each took a moment to encourage him before heading out of the room, Elan and Callen letting him know they wouldn't be far. Knowing that was comforting, as he still felt quite vulnerable. His strength was waning after the long meeting, but he had a pretty good idea who would be on the other end of the satphone, and nothing would keep him from taking her call.

"Hey Kens," he said softly as she answered. "Missed you."

"Are you okay?" Her voice tremulous and uncertain. "Hetty told me what they did to you."

"All of it?"

"She wouldn't let me hear the recording if that's what you're asking," she said. "How bad?"

"I'm okay, Kens," he replied, unsure how much he wanted to tell her.

"Thought we agreed not to keep secrets," she said.

"I just don't want to relive it, okay?" He said, unable to keep his surliness from coloring the words.

"Okay...then at least tell me how you're feeling and what the doctors are telling you."

"I feel like shit, Kens," he confessed. "I just can't tell Callen or Hetty that. They'd pull me out if they knew just how bad. And Elan would kill me."

"You lied to them...to Hetty?"

"Sort of."

"What does that mean?"

"I need to finish this," he said softly. "And Callen needs me, whether he thinks he does or not. I'm the key to getting all of these guys, Kens. Guidry cares about me. I know he's a sociopath and a murderer, but he came for me. He got me out of there when my own team couldn't. I would have died if he hadn't, Kens, and I owe him for that."

"He tried to kill Joe and set a pack of dogs on his partner," she said. "Don't forget that Deeks. You don't owe him anything. You're there to arrest him, not become part of his family."

"I know that...I know," he said, suddenly confused and uncertain.

"I'm grateful that he saved your life, but he's not family. He's not your father, Deeks. George is."

"Have you talked to George?" He asked, feeling a yearning he hadn't felt since he started this mission. "I miss him. Joe too."

"I'm at the ranch, Marty," she said softly. "Flew in two days ago. They gave me some privacy so I could talk to you, but they are all anxious to hear your voice. They're worried about you...especially now and especially Joe."

"How's he doing?" Deeks asked, thankful he had someone else to talk about other than himself.

"Physically he's doing fine, but mentally..." She stopped and it scared him. "I think he's going to quit the FBI, Deeks. His trust in them is pretty much non-existent. He doesn't talk much now and Diane can't seem to get through to him. Neither can George. Hopefully he'll talk to you."

"Okay...but first I want to know how you are," he said quietly.

"I'm rockin' my new crutches. Don't you remember how tough I am?" She asked and he could hear the smile in her voice. "You haven't been gone that long."

"Feels like forever."

"For me too," she said. "I love you. You do remember that don't you?"

He was so overcome with emotion that he couldn't find his voice. How could he tell her he hadn't thought about her at all in over a week? He hadn't let himself. It was too hard to maintain his cover if she was in his thoughts and especially in his dreams. He had to be the arrogant and crude Jimmy Hale, and he wanted her nowhere near that violent thug, even if it was only in his mind.

"Talking to me is making it hard on you, isn't it?" She said softly. "You're not yourself..."

"I don't want you to know Jimmy," he interrupted, his voice harsh and low. "He's a vicious sonofabitch who wants to emulate Antoine Guidry. He craves the attention that man gives him and...I can't explain it Kens. It's just who I've become and I need to be Jimmy until this is over. If being a son to Guidry helps stop what these guys are planning, then that's what I have to do."

"Deeks..."

"I can't do this with you right now, Kens," he said.

"You listen to me, Marty Deeks," she demanded. "You still have powerful drugs in your system. You are not Jimmy Hale. You can pretend to be anyone you want for as long as you want and pretty damn well, too. I've seen you do it, but your true self is still there when you do. Don't lose yourself. Just hide, okay?. Do your job and come home to me."

By the time she was finished his eyes were watered with tears and he was smiling. She was his partner and the woman he loved and she knew him better than anyone. He couldn't dismiss what she said. He had to hold onto every word and keep it close to his heart. She was watching his back as she always had, advising him and kicking his ass when he needed it, even when she was a thousand miles away.

"Deeks?"

"I'm still here, Sunshine," he whispered.

"Will you do that for me?" She asked and he could hear tears in her voice.

"Of course. You're kinda hard to say no to," he said. "Thanks for having my back, Kens."

"I love you. No matter what's going on, remember that."

"Always and forever."

...

...


	27. Chapter 27

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 27_

...

Callen stared solemnly out the window of the hospital at the diffused glow of the sleeping city. It was a night without a moon, the stars swallowed by the black sky, reflecting the emptiness he was feeling. The others had left hours ago to get some rest at Safa's place, but he remained, unwilling to leave his brother to sleep alone.

Everything that had happened to Deeks had been while he'd been safely back at camp dreaming as he slept unawares. He found it hard to forgive himself for that, even though Sam had talked long and hard to convince him he couldn't have done any more than they'd been able to. He sensed all their guilt, even the hint of it in Hetty's voice, Elan unable to hide his except when Deeks looked at him. Why he thought it necessary to do that he had no idea, but Elan had always been intuitive about Deeks' response to others' guilt over what he was going through. Callen knew that too, but this time he couldn't let it go, and Deeks had called him on it after the others had left. His own anger had exploded, leading him to spew out threats about what he wanted to do to Pierce and White and the others. Deeks had simply watched him, his eyes wide in surprise at his vehemence. Then he had smiled and laughed, which had been quite disconcerting and humbling, finally silencing him. Deeks had a natural inclination to make jokes about almost everything, but he was stunned when he began making fun of himself and the supposed seduction by Jacqueline Bennet. He'd tried hard not to see the humor in the scenes his brother parodied, but finally warmed to Deeks' self deprecating humor and let his anger fade. Even though he could read the underlying rage his brother covered so well, he kept that knowledge to himself, seeing no need to upset him and cause him to relive any part of the painful interrogation that had followed.

A soft murmur from the bed scattered his thoughts and he turned back to try and comfort him if a nightmare had taken hold. The bedclothes became tangled as Deeks writhed in distress, fighting his interrogators in the darkness of his unconscious mind.

"It's okay, brother," Callen said softly as he squeezed his shoulder. "You're safe."

The unexpected sound of the door opening made him jerk to attention, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun tucked behind his back. Antoine Guidry stood silhouetted against the dim light from the hall, his hulking form dark and foreboding, and Callen wanted nothing more than to shoot him where he stood. Deeks suddenly cried out in his sleep, and the man moved swiftly to the other side of the bed and gripped his brother's shoulder, whispering something in Cajun he didn't quite catch. Deeks froze, his hands rigid as they held the sheet against his chest, and Callen prepared himself in case he unknowingly revealed who he really was.

"I'm Jimmy...I'm Jimmy Hale..." He began to mumble.

Guidry's face was barely visible in the darkness of the room, but Callen heard a low growl come from deep in his chest, as the man rested his rough hand on Deeks' forehead as if seeking signs of a fever. The gentle gesture surprised him.

"What de shoot 'im up wid?" He asked.

"Somethin' called scopolamine mixed with chloroform and somethin' else," Jake reported. "Lots of it. Died once while they worked on 'im. They said he was lucky."

"Shoulda shot dos bastards when I had de chance," he said.

"I woulda killed the sonsabitches, if I'd been there," Jake said coldly. "Jimmy's the only family I got."

"Dem couyons disrespected me doin' dis."

"Don't think those assholes care. I won't trust 'em again, and neither should you," Jake warned.

"Don't tell me what ta do, Jake," the man growled.

"Hey...what's going on?" Deeks said as he woke, looking around in confusion.

"Boss Guidry here to see ya, kid," Jake said in the low, hard voice of his alias.

"Really?" Jimmy asked honestly.

"You part of de family, boy," Guidry said. "Now tell me what dem bastards did to ya."

Jimmy looked up at Jake and then back at Guidry before reaching for a cup of water on the side table. There were questions in his eyes, but his jaw tightened as he settled back into his alias. He turned the light up to a muted glow and raised the angle of the bed until he was comfortable. Starting at the beginning, he made a couple of crude jokes at Jacqueline Bennet's expense, but stopped after telling how he was handcuffed and tied down. From then on, his narrative became halting and disjointed as he tried to recall their comments, but rushing with anger when he told of the beat downs when he failed to answer quickly enough. When he finished what he could remember he looked exhausted, and laid his head back and closed his eyes.

"They're gonna kill us all, boss," he said without energy. "They didn't think I'd remember that, but I do. I heard what they said. After we do what they want, they're gonna send in Feds to raid the camps and shoot us all to hell."

Guidry's hand shot out and grabbed Jimmy by the neck, his fingers clawing into his throat and his face now just inches away.

"Dis de truth, boy?" He asked gruffly. "Don't ya lie ta me, or I'll cut your fuckin' throat."

Callen slowly pulled his gun, and rested it on the railing of the bed where Guidry could see it. "My brother's got no reason to lie. Now, let 'im go."

He wasn't sure how this had come to a head so quickly, and not even sure Deeks was fully aware of what he'd done. None of the team had agreed that Guidry should be told, but now that he had been they were all flying by the seat of their pants.

"Don't you go up against me, Jake. Y'all both gonna lose if ya do."

"Thought we was family," Jake said with irritation, not backing down at all. "Those assholes don't give a shit about any of us. You neither. They're just usin' The Brotherhood ta do their dirty work, boss."

"They called you a dumb hick," Jimmy said, and Callen realized he was winging it. "Said you was the perfect scapegoat. Not sure what that is, but it don't sound good."

"Who call me dat?" Guidry asked, releasing Jimmy and gripping the railing with both hands.

"Harrison White and the woman. They was laughin', too," he replied. "What's it mean, sir?"

Deeks had changed his voice, sounding young and inexperienced, and Guidry fell for it, even smiling at his false innocence.

"Stakin' me out ta take all de blame, mon fils," Guidry replied. "Dey take us down and go scot-free."

"They're traitors to the cause...ain't they sir," Jimmy said. "Don't seem right."

"Dey done fucked wid the wrong Cajun," Guidry said under his breath.

"What ya gonna do about it, boss?" Jake asked.

"Make 'em sorry dey ever been born," he replied in a gruff whisper. "I'll send Prou for y'all in de mornin'. We got plans ta make."

"What if the doctor won't release him?" Jake asked, worried it was too soon.

"Don't fuckin' matter. Your brother a tough sonofabitch," Guidry said with a quick smile. "You be ready like I say. No time ta waste layin' around."

"We'll be ready, sir," Jimmy said.

"We gonna make 'em pay for what de did to ya, mon fils," Guidry promised. "Already got Doc Mouton. Got dat weasel Eliot, too. We gonna have a little fun wid 'em tomorrow."

Callen felt chilled by his words and put a hand on Deeks' arm, feeling his muscles tighten with tension. Even after all the doctor had put Deeks through, he didn't want to watch the old man suffer under Guidry's hand. He felt adrift, unsure if there was anything they could possibly do to change what was sure to happen to the man. Would it really be for the greater good for the doctor to be tortured and killed? Could they both live with such an act of vengeance? They had come to stop all of these men from an act of terrorism, but now they both had become part of it all. Arresting a man was one thing, but becoming complicit in his agonizing death left him feeling unsettled and trapped, questioning his own morals.

"Have to see the doctor before he'll sign me out," Jimmy said. "He comes 'round about ten. Prou can come for us after that."

Callen sucked in a breath at Deeks' sudden arrogance, but Guidry simply nodded and lightly slapped his cheek.

"Be good ta have ya back, boy," the man said before turning and walking back out the door without another word.

Neither one said a thing for several minutes, the room so silent they could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall at the end of the bed.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Deeks whispered, rubbing his hands over his face and back through his hair.

"Drink a little water," Callen said quietly, feeling somewhat nauseous himself.

Deeks' hand trembled as he held the cup to drink, and Callen finally took it from him. This assignment had taken a toll on both of them, but Deeks looked deeply shaken and Callen worried that he might not be able to continue. He didn't want to underestimate him, but the thought of him falling apart in the middle of The Brotherhood camp was a concern. It could put the whole mission at risk, and their lives as well.

"You lied to Hetty didn't you?" He finally said. "You're not even close to being physically ready for all this."

"But I don't have a fuckin' choice, do I?" He snapped back.

"You ready to watch that old man ripped to shreds by dogs or gators or whatever else that depraved bastard can think up?"

"Are you?" Deeks choked out. "Is anybody? Shit, G. I don't want to go back there. My skin crawls every time that crazy sonofabitch touches me, but what else can we do? We have to play this out. Going back is the only way."

"And you don't think you rushed things just a little by telling him Pierce was gonna massacre The Brotherhood?" Callen asked, trying hard not to completely lose his temper. "That wasn't your call, brother. It's Hetty's."

"Hetty ain't here," Deeks growled, sounding exactly like Jimmy Hale.

"You're right," he conceded. "But she's still gonna be pissed, and you know how she gets when she's pissed."

"I know, okay? But I'm tired as hell, G. And to be honest, I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up," Deeks confessed. "I need it to be over, brother. The sooner the better."

Callen's anger faded away at his honesty and he gripped his shoulder, sorry he had chastised him. "Me too, kid, but you spilling the beans doesn't give us much time to figure out who else in Washington is involved."

"But Eliot and Doc Mouton sure as hell must know," he reasoned. "All we have to do is find a way to get them to tell us."

"Think you can get Guidry to give us a little alone time with those two?" Callen asked.

"If I kiss his ass enough he might," Deeks said softly with a quick, but sad grin.

"Quoi que ce soit pour un fils," he said under his breath.

"What's that?"

"It means 'anything for a son'," Callen replied softly. "That's how he thinks of you now."

"Seriously? A few minutes ago, the sonofabitch told me he'd cut my throat if I was lying to him," Deeks said. "Not exactly something a Father of the Year would say."

"Must be some of that tough love you hear so much about," Callen smirked.

"Been there, done that, got the T-shirt," he said a little sadly.

"He likes Jimmy," Callen said as he slumped into a chair. "Use it. Get us time alone with Mouton and Eliot so we can finish this."

"Yes, boss," Deeks said wearily, but he grinned at the end.

"Now go back to sleep, little brother," Callen ordered firmly. "You still look like crap."

"Just hope I don't feel like it when I wake up," he replied, ending it with a yawn.

Callen waited until he was snoring before he pulled the phone Sam had left with him. Walking out into the hall so as not to disturb Deeks, he found a quiet sitting area by a window and sat down to call Hetty. His report was greeted with disbelief and a rigid anger he let her vent without a response. He explained their new plan and she agreed it might bear fruit, but she was not happy, and he knew Deeks would be in for one of Hetty's stiff reprimands when this mission was over. She admonished him as well, reminding him he was the senior agent, and that left him defensive and annoyed.

"Guidry cares about him, Hetty. He'll do things for him now, that he won't do for me. Deeks has good instincts and you're just going to have to trust us both."

"Then you both better not screw this up," she charged. "I don't want to explain to George Atwood that he got one son back only to lose his other two."

Her remark stunned him. He never thought of George as his father, and was surprised she did. He admired him and gravitated towards him whenever he was at the ranch, but his father? No. His real father was somewhere in Russia, and he never wanted anyone to take his place, even a man he respected as much as George Atwood.

"And take care, Mr. Callen, and tell Mr. Deeks to do the same," she replied. "That man's a shrewd, immoral devil."

"I don't think I have to tell Deeks that, Hetty," Callen replied. "You've never been in the same room with Guidry. Believe me, Deeks knows the risks, and so do I."

"Watch out for each other, Mr. Callen. The country is counting on you, and so am I."

His conversation with Sam was brief. He simply told him about Guidry's man coming for them and warned them not to show up in the morning. After he hung up he realized how much he missed Sam, a true brother to him for so long. If he or Deeks needed him, he would be there. He always had been, and that gave him immense comfort. Timing was now critical. He could feel the end was close at hand and he suddenly longed for it all to be over, just as much as Deeks. He wanted to see him back to his easygoing nature, laughing and being a wiseass. He was growing tired of being the mean bastard that was Jake Hale, and living a lie. A sudden yearning to be at the Atwood Ranch took hold of him. He longed to relax in the sun by the cold rushing creek, to ride across the open range side by side with men he considered brothers, and to be relieved of the fear that haunted him whenever he saw Guidry look at Deeks with those dark, consuming eyes.

Somehow Joe had managed to stay undercover with the man for over a month, but it had cost him dearly if what Deeks had told him was true. This assignment had caused him to reconsider how he wanted to live the rest of his life, and Callen wondered if it might not have the same affect on Deeks. Guidry kept pulling him closer, and Deeks was disturbed by that, but unable to distance himself without jeopardizing the mission. It had been tough on him and was only going to get tougher. He could read his hatred of the brutality of the man. It was familiar, but Deeks' father paled in comparison. He had to believe his brother was strong enough to navigate the cesspool that was Antoine Guidry, and he had to be strong enough to help him do it.

...

Jimmy Hale was a tough little bastard, at least in the eyes of the man called Prou. He had expressed that small gem when he'd first met them in his room at the hospital. The doctor had tried to talk him out of leaving, but good ol' Prou had told him to fuck off, causing the man to shake his head in what looked like disgust before he quickly left. Once they were in the car headed north, the skinny man didn't talk a whole lot, which Deeks was grateful for, but when he did he'd had to listen to the man's descriptions of how he looked when he and Tino had hauled him away from Pierce's yacht. That unvarnished truth made him queasy and had ignited Callen's rage, and his brother's repeated questions were starting to get on his nerves, eliciting answers he had no interest in hearing. Prou could be quite descriptive and from the backseat he could see the smoke practically coming out of his brother's ears, until he finally used Jimmy Hale's voice to tell them both to shut the hell up. Callen had stared at him for a long moment after that and then cocked his head slightly, acknowledging the reason for his explosive response. After that, the road trip was rather peaceful except for the throbbing headache behind his eyes.

"We comin' into Baton Rouge," Prou announced. "If y'all are hungry, we could stop and grab somethin'."

They both declined and Deeks felt his stomach turn over as they crossed the Mississippi on the interstate, and he looked down on the dock where he's first met Pierce and the sick bastards that surrounded him. He ran his hand up through his long hair, grateful for the hot shower he'd had before breakfast, but now he felt dirty again. He'd been a little shaky on his feet this morning, but he was a lot shakier now, the memories bubbling up with the sudden anger he felt.

"You ain't lookin' so good, Jimmy," Prou said as he looked at him in the rear view mirror. "Don't go throwin' up in my car now, dude. Bought this beauty my first day back from Iraq."

"Maybe we should stop and get a bite to eat," Jake suggested. "Might help, little brother."

Deeks could only nod as dark memories flooded into his mind. He definitely needed a distraction and some roadhouse diner might not be such a bad idea.

"There's a good little BBQ place called Uncle Coot's just up ahead in Grosse Tete," Prou said, smiling widely. "Best chicken around and got a damn pretty waitress."

He silently nodded and rolled the window down, letting the warm air whipping past dry the clammy sweat on his face. His head was swimming by the time they got there, and the concern in Callen's eyes let him know he probably looked as wrung out as he felt. He did manage to snort out a soft laugh at the so-called BBQ joint. It was a ramshackle mess, long and low, painted a sickly, dark pink with a rusted corrugated tin roof and Christmas lights draped under the eaves. The wooden sign on the roof called it a juke joint and a paper flyer nailed to the door flapped in the subtle breeze, announcing the coming appearance of the Lost Bayou Ramblers, which seemed very appropriate considering. He was just thankful they weren't playing today, cause the way his head was pounding, any noise at all, even music, would be intolerable.

He followed his brother inside behind Prou, who was greeted with a shout out from the man behind the bar. The place was almost empty, quiet and dark, mostly illuminated by more multicolored Christmas lights, giving it a look of cheeriness that he wasn't feeling. An old black man with white hair sat in a far corner softly strumming a beat up guitar and humming a melancholy blues tune that fit his mood. Deeks gravitated over to him as Prou and Callen ordered at the bar. He dropped into one of the different colored chairs surrounding a round table close by and buried his face briefly in his hands, hoping the dim light might ease his headache.

"You lookin' poorly, boy," the old man said, his voice low and deep.

"Headache," he croaked in reply.

"I'll sing ya a lullaby blues song my mama taught me," he said even more softly. "Always takes the tension out."

The melody was haunting, the old man picking the slightly out of tune nylon strings in a slow, steady rhythm, humming the sweet song before easing into the words. It was a sad story, that song, but it fit the way he was feeling and the gentle sounds were soothing and did help alleviate some of his pain. He leaned the chair back against the wall and closed his eyes, allowing the moody strains of the old tune to wrap around him and he felt his muscles uncoil as he dropped his head down onto his chest. The melodic, undulating melody made him sleepy, evoking dreams that held no fear. It was only Callen's warm hand on the back of his neck that drew him back to reality.

"How about a little chicken and rice?" Callen asked quietly. "They gave me a handful of aspirin too. I told them you were just out of the hospital and not feeling well."

He looked over to see Prou leaning against the bar with a beer in his hand, trying to charm a cute girl who looked as if she wanted nothing to do with him, not that he noticed. The scene made the day seem normal, not a trip back into hell. A solid looking woman with gray hair piled on top of her head and wearing a flowered apron, was looking him over with a critical eye as she carried a tray of food to their table. She greeted them in a heavy Cajun accent and smiled softly, revealing a gold tooth.

"You take dem aspirins, son," she ordered. "I kin see de pain in dose pretty blue eyes of yours. Chicken won't roil your belly, and de rice'll help calm it a bit."

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied with one of his best and widest smiles.

"My, ain't he a handsome one, Cotton," she said to the old black man.

"'Preciates the blues, too," he replied.

"Better 'preciate Coot's chicken or he'll come on outchere and wanna know why," she laughed.

The food was good and relatively mild as well and the aspirin finally began to work its magic, so he asked Cotton to play another song before they had to leave. The old blues man smiled, the deep wrinkles around his bleary eyes making Deeks wondered just how old he was.

"Now I knows you ain't from 'round here, so I'll do ya one I learn from ol' Gatemouth Brown," he said. "Called 'Long Way Home'."

The slow moving beat relaxed him even more, but the words touched him deeply, making him instantly homesick. His thoughts strayed to Kensi, which was a dangerous place for his mind to be, but as the old man sang he took it for what it was, a rare gift, one he could secretly hold close to his heart. In the rough world he was going back to, he could replay that sad song in his mind when he needed to remind himself who was waiting for him when he got back home. When the song ended he had tears in his eyes, and stood to thank the old man who had eased some of the trouble from his mind.

"Y'all take care now," Cotton said softly. "Looks like y'all been travelin' a hard road. Don't get lost now."

Deeks felt a shiver go down his back, and had no idea what to say to the man in response. Callen offered him a tip, but he refused, telling them he was just here practicing for a gig later that night. Prou was waiting by the door, and he found he didn't want to leave. This place had been a safe haven, a brief respite from the harsh world they were returning to, and he wondered if he was ready for it.

"Come on, brother," Callen whispered as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder and urged him on. "You can do this. It's time."

"Yeah...no...I'm just glad we stopped. It was a good place to catch our breath," he finally replied, raising a hand in a goodbye gesture as he walked back out into the bright heat of the day.

Once in the car and back on the highway, he found himself nodding off, especially when they hit the long bridge over the Atchafalaya Swamp. It looked endless and foreboding, and he shut his eyes against his thoughts and tried to talk himself back into becoming Jimmy Hale again. He felt himself slide that way when Prou pulled off and followed a one-lane road that led to a wide bayou.

"Got us a boat waitin'," Prou said. "Now we follow the water."

It was if his real mind went blank as Jimmy Hale clawed his way out. He felt gnarly, the nasty kind that ended up getting you in trouble. The closer he got to the bayou, the more irritable he became, and Callen watching him carefully was not helping his mood. He stared out at the slow moving brown water, and the sight of it pissed him off just as Prou slapped him on the back.

"Don't fuckin' touch me, asshole," he growled, shoving the man away from him.

"What the hell got into you?" The man asked, looking confused.

"You forget where he's been the last couple of days?" Jake snarled, aggressively backing him up. "Just get in the boat and start the damn motor and let's get movin'."

Prou looked irritated, but nodded as he stepped down onto the dock and untied the boat. "Guess it takes awhile to get over being dead."

For some reason that made Jimmy laugh out loud, which got Jake to smirk and finally join him, both unable to stop laughing as they climbed into the metal boat and sat down.

"Y'all are a couple of weird dudes," Prou said as he started the motor and pulled out.

It was a hot day and there was no escape from the heat or the mosquitos out on the open water. They traveled in silence, seeing only one or two boats as they made their way south, the hours passing slowly until Prou pointed out where they were going. They all welcomed the canopy of trees as he guided the boat through a narrow break in the bank and struck out on a lesser waterway that led to Bayou Chene and the camp. The now familiar sounds of crying birds closed in around them, their high screeching making Jimmy's nerves taut until he was almost vibrating.

"How's your head, brother?" Jake asked softly.

"Too many damn birds," was his only answer.

Once they were on the upper reaches of Bayou Chene, the twists and turns had his head spinning, the damp smell of the swamp making him gag. He saw how worried his brother was, but he was determined not to succumb to the weakness he was experiencing. He couldn't, so he wouldn't.

"How far, Prou," he asked quietly.

"'Bout half an hour," he replied. "But I can cut it a bit if you need me to."

"Do it," Jake said, his blue eyes probing his own.

"I'm okay, Jake," he told him.

"Yeah, right."

Prou seemed to understand and opened the throttle, finally getting them to the now familiar landing next to camp. They were greeted by four heavily armed men and they could see lookouts posted around the perimeter of the camp. It was eerily silent and he could feel the tension crackling in the air. Guidry was preparing to defend himself and wasn't about to be caught unawares. Jake walked up close and bumped his shoulder, nodding toward one of the platforms close to the edge of camp. Doc Mouton was tied to one of the posts and Elliot to the other. Both had been beaten and his stomach clinched into a hard knot. If they were killed before they had a chance to question them, this op might take a lot longer than any of them wanted it to.

"You look like shit, kid," Tino said as he approached.

"Thought I looked pretty good for a dead guy," he said cockily, falling back on being a wiseass as he tried to get his mind around being back here.

"Didn't think you'd make it to be honest," the tough man replied. "Those bastards did a number on ya. Antoine's damn pissed. Took it out on those two when he got back early this morning."

"We get a go at 'em?" Jake asked. "Maybe let us take 'em for a little walk in the swamp?"

"That's the boss's call," he said as he led the way up to Guidry's cabin.

The smell of roasting pig and smoke wafted over the camp, but there was none of the easy laughter or conversations taking place as there usually was around suppertime. The men had gathered in small groups, and there were some he had never seen before. He saw none of the men who had tortured them, and that surprised him and he could see it surprised Jake as well. When he saw Guidry coming toward him he put on his alias as he would his bullet proof vest, settling into Jimmy Hale even more deeply than he already was. His brother saw the change and gripped his shoulder, stopping him from getting any closer to the crazy bastard approaching as if trying to put off the inevitable.

"Mon fils," he called out. "You home, boy."

He slid into darkness as the cold, rough hand of the man gently slapped his cheek.

...

...


	28. Chapter 28

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 28_

...

The pork tasted like ash in his mouth, the biscuit like dried bone. The sticky heat cloaked him in sweat, trickles of it stinging his eyes and making his neck prickly where it soaked into his tee shirt. He hesitantly accepted the whiskey Guidry offered just to dull his growing disgust at the man's closeness. He could smell him. It was a fetid smell like the swamp that surrounded them, reeking, as if an old evil was rotting his insides. He cringed whenever the man's rough hand slid up his back to grip his shoulder, his gravelly laugh odd sounding and disturbing considering what they were discussing. He shakily poured himself another whiskey and downed it quickly without looking at his brother, who sat staring at him from across the rough wooden table. He knew he was drinking too much, knew it was reckless, but right now he didn't give a good goddamn. He was sitting next to an otherworldly inhuman being seriously trying to decide the best way to take a man to the very edge of death without actually killing him.

Guidry had ordered the dinner table and benches set up beside the platform where Doctor Mouton and Elliot Dale were cruelly tied. The two men could hear every word he spoke, every description of each terrible torture he'd either tried or was anxious to try.

"Looky dere, mon fils," Guidry said, gripping his neck. "De ol' doc be cryin'."

Slamming back another shot of whiskey he cussed out a string of words to stop himself from smashing the man beside him in the face. Callen reached across and gripped his forearm so tightly it hurt, and he glared back at him, but slowly settled, letting his revulsion slide back down his throat. There had been no time to talk privately about their own plans, and Guidry had yet to give them permission to be alone with the two badly beaten men.

"You want payback, dontcha boy?" Guidry said, pulling his head close as he whispered in his ear.

"Ain't I owed that?" He spit out, unable to hide his boiling anger.

"I 'spect ya are," Guidry replied. "You angry, mon fils, and I gonna let ya take it out on dem two soon enough. Just don't kill 'em when I let ya loose, ya hear?"

Guidry laughed as he reached behind his back and slowly pulled a wicked looking knife, stabbing it into the table between the two of them.

"Go cut me some more pig meat, mon fils," he ordered, slapping him on the back. "Ya need ta cool off. Ya runnin' hot right now. Might slice open dat doc's throat before I get ta have my fun."

The man had easily read his rage, but not who it was directed at, and for that he was grateful. He saw the warning in the intensity of his brother's eyes, but also the fear that rippled along his jawline. He fought to get control of himself, fighting the strong hold Jimmy Hale had on him, jumping up quickly from the table to do as he was told. The heady smoke from the barbecue pit made his eyes water, although he didn't care much since it was such a relief just to be away from Guidry. The sweet smell of greasy pig made him want to puke, but several men were watching him and it pissed him off.

"What the fuck you lookin' at?" he snarled, noticing they took a couple of steps back and quickly averted their eyes.

Their actions made him aware of just how high he'd risen in the pecking order because of his closeness to Guidry, and it actually calmed him down. Some of the wariness he'd always felt around the men of The Brotherhood now faded and he became brazen and unafraid. He stood taller, strutting back toward the table, the warm juices of the pork running between his fingers as he clutched the meat in his fist. He stopped halfway there to look into the terrified eyes of Elliot. The man's bloody chin quivered as he watched him, pleading silently for his life, something he had no power to grant. His mind began to fluctuate between the arrogance of his alias and the empathy of his true self. Which one would help him survive? Which one could find a way to keep these two men alive, but then instantly questioned if he even wanted that and it scared him. The old blues man had warned him not to get lost, and now he was afraid he already was.

He looked over at Guidry, the man's slick black hair dripping with sweat, as he talked intensely to his brother, wiping grease from his scraggly mustache and the edges of his mouth with the back of his hand. Jimmy Hale might want to follow in the devil's footsteps, but he didn't, and he tried to cling to that thought with strident determination.

He gripped the slippery handle of the knife as he approached, aware of how easy it would be to end Guidry's life in an instant. It was so tempting, but Callen's eyes caught his and widened, reading his thoughts so easily that it made him smile. He shook his head and he saw the muscles in his brother's shoulders release as he slowly blew out a relieved breath of held back air. He leaned over and let the handful of meat tumble onto Guidry's plate, not wanting to sit back down beside him. The man suddenly grabbed his wrist and held it in an iron grip as he turned to look up at him.

"You got ahold of yourself, mon fils?" He growled, yanking him close.

He wondered how to answer as the man's sweaty hand tightened. He was tired of being manhandled, and he teetered between Jimmy Hale and himself, trying to decide on how to react to the painful grip and to the troubling question. Just who did he have ahold of?

"What the fuck does it matter? Now, let go of me," he growled, yanking his wrist free.

Guidry moved so fast that Jake had no time to react, and neither did he. The man grabbed him by the throat and slammed him down on the table, scattering plates of meat and bowls of grits, the remaining biscuits rolling off the edge into the dirt.

"If you ain't gonna use dat knife, boy, you best let it go," he snarled in his face.

He fought to breathe, opening his hand to let the knife slip free.

"Don't ya never talk ta me like dat again, boy," he ordered harshly. "Ya hear me?"

"Yessir," the words nothing but a strangled whisper.

"Jake. Your little brother too wild after what dey did to 'im," he said, breathing hard as he held him down. "You talk sense into 'im, or I'm gonna take a switch to his backside like he a little boy 'stead of a man. Understand? Boy needs discipline and I'll give 'im a good whuppin' if he don't show me respect."

Guidry shoved himself off of him and he rolled over on his side and coughed at the dry pain in his throat. He was fiercely angry and wasn't sure what he would have done if Jake didn't have a fistful of his shirt in both hands, keeping him in place.

"Don't, kid," he whispered. "Stay down, dammit. Just stay down."

"Don't be a dumbass, Cuz," Elan said slowly and softly in his ear. "Think what it would do to Joe if you got yourself killed. He'd blame himself, Marty."

The familiar words and his own name took the air from his lungs and he panted, trying to catch his breath as his adrenaline and rage drained away.

"You good?" Jake asked and he nodded weakly.

"Let me up."

He pushed himself off the table, embarrassed by his actions and his loss of control. He was a better undercover operative than this and he sat down hard on the bench, pulling his head down almost to his knees as he spit out the bitter taste in his mouth. He had almost blown the advantage they had, and he silently cursed himself for his bad judgment and for letting himself be controlled by his own alias. He knew Callen had been shaken by his actions, and he needed to prove to his partner that he hadn't completely freaked out, so he blew out his breath a couple of times and stood up and searched for Guidry.

The man was up on the platform, his hand around the doctor's throat and his mouth close to his ear. His eyes were wild and dark as he berated the whimpering man. Deeks couldn't hear what he was saying, but he knew it was about him and he walked past Callen and stepped up onto the platform.

"Mr. Guidry?" He called out softly.

"What now, couyon?"

"Came to apologize, sir," he said humbly. "I'm just an idiot sometimes. You can ask Jake. You been good to me, Mr. Guidry. You saved my life and I ain't never thanked you for that. I woulda died if it weren't for you."

Guidry turned to stare at him, searching for the truth in his words. They had been honestly spoken and Guidry finally seemed satisfied and motioned for him to come closer. He gripped the back of his neck and Deeks hung his head, hoping the man would assume it was because he was ashamed instead of a way to hide the revulsion he felt.

"Long as you know not ta fuck wid me, boy, we get along," Guidry said. "You lucky I like you, mon fils, otherwise I woulda beat the shit outa you like your daddy shoulda done."

"Oh, he did that real good, sir," Deeks said with a hint of the real anger he felt. "Since I was four. Got the scars to prove it."

"Good," Guidry said. "Dat what daddies is supposed ta do."

Deeks struggled not to argue with his sick belief, keeping his head down so the man wouldn't see the sudden flash of indignation in his eyes.

"Dis here sonofabitch shoot ya up wid all dem drugs. Dey make ya a little bit crazy. Crazier than ya are, anyways," he laughed harshly. "You and Jake take your time wid dese two while me and Tino check de perimeter. Don't want dem assholes sneakin' up on us. 'Member now, boy. Dontcha kill 'em. Dat's my right."

"Yessir," he replied softly, making sure there wasn't a hint of rebellion in his voice.

"Good boy."

Guidry slapped him across the chest before jumping off the platform and he was filled with such a deep hatred for the man that his hands unwittingly curled into fists and he struggled to remain contrite.

"Please don't hurt me?" Mouton whimpered, and Deeks realized the man had seen his reaction to Guidry and assumed it was meant for him.

"Shut up," he said calmly as Callen stepped up next to him.

They both took their time checking out the men in the area, not wanting anyone within earshot when they talked to Mouton and Elliot. Once the table was cleared and moved, the militiamen let them be, everyone keeping their distance, probably on Guidry's orders.

"I thought you lost it, brother," Callen finally said.

"I did. Sorry, man," he replied.

"Remember why you're there, Deeks," Sam's strident voice said loudly in his ear.

"You owe me a thank you, numbnuts. I kept' this big ol' Navy SEAL off comms," Roy chimed in. "You really know how ta piss him off."

"He didn't need someone yelling at him, Sam," Elan said.

The three men argued among themselves for a few moments, and Deeks found he enjoyed listening to them. It was just the distraction he needed to right himself.

"We need those names, G," Sam finally said.

"And y'all are gonna have ta show Guidry that ya took it to those two bastards," Roy reminded them. "It'll be suspicious if they don't look a whole lot worse for wear than when Guidry left."

Deeks and Callen stared at one another, both realizing Roy was right and as repugnant as it might be, they would have to rough them up unless they could think of some other way.

"Mouton pumped you full of drugs, brother," Jake Hale spit out angrily, giving him a hard shove as he spoke. "Now make him regret it."

Deeks searched his brother's face, understanding what Callen was trying to do, but it only made him sad. "He's an old man."

Jake's face slowly hardened into a cold mask, his eyes like ice, and not a remnant of his true self seemed to remain. His nostrils suddenly flared before he turned away, walking purposefully over to stand in front of Doctor Mouton. The man cowered, whimpering softly, but Jake Hale snorted in disgust and hit him hard and low. The man screamed when Jake hit him again and began to plead, babbling that he'd been forced to do what he did.

"Bullshit," Jimmy roared as he rushed over to face the man. "You smiled, asshole."

"No, no, no...," he said weakly. "I was just afraid. They would have killed me if I hadn't done what they wanted."

"Pierce will make you pay for this," Elliot threatened from behind them. "He's got people you don't know about. They'll blow you away if you kill us."

"Who the hell would that be, asshole?" Jake grunted in derision. "The old man just said he was forced into it, and now you want us to believe Pierce is gonna send some dudes we don't know to kill us just to save you two?"

"Yeah, Elliot. Give us some names, or shut the fuck up," Jimmy taunted as he approached the man. "Who are these mystery men? They up there in Washington?"

"Friends in the military," he boasted.

"Like a captain or somethin'?" Jimmy laughed. "Hey Jake. I think I'm scared now."

"You should be you stupid punk," Elliot spit out.

Jimmy hit him with a roundhouse punch high on the cheek, and then backhanded him across the mouth, before grabbing his shirt in both fists and shoving him hard against the rough post.

"You're the one tied up and waitin' to die, dickhead," Jimmy snarled in his face. "Give us some names and maybe Guidry won't set a pack of dogs on ya or feed ya to the gators like he did one of his own men."

"He did that?" Elliot squeaked out.

"You think all that talk earlier was some kinda joke or somethin'?" Jimmy asked with a cocky smile. "I watched him do it. Nasty. Real fuckin' nasty. That douchebag screamed like you wouldn't believe. Gator ate his arm first. Then his head. Stopped the screamin', which was nice. Just gobbled the rest of him down till there was nothin' left. Just his boots. Ugly thing spit those out."

By the time he was finished with the description, Elliot was shaking so bad he peed his pants.

"Got us a pisser, Jake," he laughed.

"Think the boss might like to meet these mystery men," Jake said as he came up and put a hand around Eliot's throat. "Who the fuck are they?"

"Okay...okay. The main guy is with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. One of his subordinates is in charge of combatant forces for the Marines. That guy is one mean sonofabitch," Elliot said in a rush. "He's the one who'll bring down the wrath of God on all you bastards if you hurt us."

"Didn't hear no names come outa your mouth, fuckface," Jimmy said as he pulled his gun from behind his back. "I think he's just makin' stuff up, Jake."

He pressed the barrel of the gun into the trembling man's ear and laughed. "Did you just pee again?"

"Boss said you can't kill 'im, Jimmy."

"Sonofabitch. You're right, brother," he replied as he moved his gun down and pushed the muzzle into the side of his butt. "Didn't say I couldn't shoot his ass off."

"Wait, wait...please just wait, okay?" Elliot pleaded. "Hunter Greer is with the Joint Chiefs. General Jefferson Rasmussen answers to him."

"Those are some serious dudes," Roy said in his ear and whistled softly.

"We need a way to get all the co-conspirators together in the same place so we can take them all down at once," Sam said. "You two will have to figure out how, G."

"Can't Hetty just have them arrested?" Elan asked.

"We only have Elliot's word," Sam reasoned. "We'll need more than that little shit's word, especially if Guidry kills him. Do what you can G. I'll call Hetty."

Callen pulled Deeks aside, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and walking him to the far corner of the platform. The crickets had started up now that the sun was down and a large bird was a welcomed distraction as it gracefully set down on top of a tree in front of them. It was an egret and snowy white, looking so pure it made Deeks feel dirty. His hand felt slick and grimy as he gripped the gun, pressing it tightly against his leg. He found it hard to breathe and Callen gripped his shoulder as if he understood how much he hated what they were doing.

"Maybe we can get Guidry to offer to release Elliot and the doctor in exchange for meeting the two new players," Callen whispered. "He's gotta be pissed he wasn't told about them."

"Good plan if the bastards want them back," he replied. "If they don't...what then?"

"It's worth a try," Callen said softly.

They jumped down from the platform together, Callen's hand sliding up his back to his shoulder, squeezing it briefly as they went in search of Guidry in the deepening twilight. Being partnered with him on this assignment had been a revelation. He loved him as a brother, and enjoyed his companionship when they were together, but he'd never been on a long undercover mission as his partner before. He was extremely supportive and able to read him even when he wasn't sure of his own thoughts. Callen's ability to quickly assess a situation and act, as he had when he'd been reluctant to hit that helpless old man made him appreciate what a professional he was. He did what was needed, even when it was decidedly unpleasant.

"Thanks for having my back," Deeks said softly.

"You did good back there," Callen assured him and then smirked. "You made Elliot pee and everything."

"One of my specialties."

"Good to know, kid."

The Brotherhood members were always armed, but now they held their automatic weapons at the ready and the tension in camp was tangible. They got no suspicious looks from any of the men, which was a much-needed relief. What they did get were expressions of camaraderie, and that was definitely something new. They had obviously all heard what Pierce and the doctor had done to him and the men nodded or saluted as he passed. Because of it they'd been accepted as integral members of The Brotherhood, something they both had worked hard for, but still found abhorrent. He schooled his features as Callen was doing beside him, clinching his jaw tight as he nodded back at the men, knowing they would kill them without a shred of remorse if they knew they were federal agents.

They asked one man at the edge of camp if he'd seen Guidry and were pointed to a break in the undergrowth and a narrow track that led down to the bayou. The light became murky as the thick growth closed in around them on the twisting path. It was one they'd never been on before and they could hear distant, angry voices up ahead. Two men suddenly stepped out in front of them pointing rifles at their chests as two more came up silently behind them. They were men they didn't know.

"Easy now," Jake said softly, spreading his arms wide to show he had no weapon in his hand.

"We got somethin' Mr. Guidry needs to hear," Jimmy said quickly, only to be shoved against a tree and a hairy forearm pressed against his throat.

"What's he gotta hear from a punk ass like you?" the heavily bearded man growled.

"Your breath smells like a fresh load of crap, dude," Jimmy smiled cockily before the man shoved him sideways onto the ground.

"Touch 'im again and Antoine'll gut ya," Tino warned as he suddenly stepped between them. "If his brother Jake don't kick your ass first."

Jake helped him up and he spit on the ground at the man's feet. Then he stuck his hand out and smiled.

"Name's Jimmy," he said with a wide smile. "What's yours, dickwad?"

"You're Jimmy Hale?" The big man asked nervously. "Sorry man. Did I hurt ya?"

"No. Just pissed me off," he replied.

"Don't blame ya," the big man said humbly. "Folks call me Beau."

"Can't say it's been nice meetin' ya, Bobo, but you seem like the right sonofabitch to watch the boss's back," Jimmy said, slapping the man lightly on the arm.

When he turned back, Guidry stood in the dim light watching him. He thought he saw him smile, but he wasn't smiling now, simply waved him and Jake forward. The guards melted into the undergrowth as if they'd never been there and Jake shot him a look that told him he was impressed with their skills. Tino led the way into a clearing leading to a wooden walkway that jutted out into a shallow lake covered in algae. At the end was an old, roughly built shack on stilts with half walls and a shed roof, the rafters hung with various sized lanterns that glowed brightly in the eerily dark surroundings.

"You boys done wid dem bastards already?" Guidry asked sharply.

"Was just gettin' started when Elliot let slip Pierce's got some big shots in the military on the payroll," Jake told him.

"Yeah, boss...said if we hurt him and the doc that they'd come down on us and take us all out," Jimmy hurried to add.

"Pierce holdin' out on me," Guidry grunted out. "Don't much like bein' threatened, neither."

He motioned for them to follow as he headed across the walkway to the private hangout at the end. There were several folding lawn chairs set up inside and a big red-topped cooler sat in the middle.

"You boys want a beer?" He asked as he slouched into a pale green and white lawn chair. "Pea brung up a few six packs and some ice. He just a good ol' boy at heart."

They both took one and Deeks thought it was one of the best damn things he'd tasted in a long while. He noticed how wary Jake was acting and he slumped back in the low chair and kept quiet and alert.

"Why Elliot tell ya 'bout dem military honchos?" Guidry asked, taking a sip of his beer, his eyes curious and dark.

"Jimmy was gonna shoot his ass off," Jake said with a smirk. "He was saying all kinda things to hold onto it."

"Y'all believe 'im?"

"Gave us their names, sir," Jimmy replied, trying to sound as deferential as possible. "They're generals."

"Why the fuck wouldn't Pierce tell us about them, boss?" Tino said, obviously ticked off.

"Cause dat man think he smarter den me," Guidry said. "Wants ta use me and De Brotherhood as scapegoats. Jimmy heard em. Said dey call me a hick."

"They're just interested in the money," Jimmy said hoarsely. "Heard that sick bastard Pensky talkin' about all the stuff he was gonna buy while he jacked off in his pants."

"You didn't tell me that," Jake said.

"Didn't tell you a lot of things," he replied, jumping up and leaning over the low wall, hoping for some cooler air.

Guidry was suddenly behind him, and he desperately tried not to flinch when the man ruffled his hair. "Dey done more to ya, didn't dey boy?"

"Little bits and pieces keep comin' back," he whispered. "Couldn't fight 'em. They're sick shits, boss. They don't respect you, sir, or what The Brotherhood stands for. Hate to see you go down to a bunch of fuckers like that just so they can buy another big boat and live happily ever after."

"Ain't nobody gonna take me down, mon fils," Guidry said. "'Specially dem slickers from up north. Ain't trusted dem since Pierce said dey was gonna poison the Mississip. I love dat big ol' river. Dis my home, and I gonna fight for it. Dey be de ones goin' down, boy, and dey goin' down hard."

"How we gonna get 'em all back down here?" Tino asked. "You did threaten to shoot those two assholes if they didn't give Jimmy back."

"Trade the two bastards we got for a meeting with them and these generals," Jake suggested. "They don't know Jimmy's still alive. Once you tell 'em, they might want to find out if he remembered anything."

"Bait de trap, den snap it shut with a big ol' bang," Guidry laughed.

"Sure they won't just shoot us down the minute we show up?" Tino questioned.

"Why kill your own scapegoat?" Jake said.

"Yeah...they still need us, boss," Jimmy said with a cocky grin.

"But we don't need dem no more. We done wid 'em," Guidry said gruffly. "You a smart man, Jake. I like that. Guess dem two I got tied up gonna live another day. Go give 'em de good news, Tino. I'm gonna call Pierce and tell 'im about Jimmy and how Elliot spilled his guts 'bout a couple of generals I wanna meet."

"Where this meetin' gonna be, boss?" Jimmy asked as he slouched against the wall. "Hope it ain't gonna be on that damn boat of theirs. Had enough of that slick shithole."

"Me too, mon fils," Guidry said, draping an arm across his shoulder. "I think de doc's house be a good place. Make 'em think dey in neutral territory."

"What ya got in mind for 'em, boss?" Jake asked.

"Still thinkin' on dat, Jake," he replied and drained the last of his beer. "Jimmy's lookin' tired. Take 'im on back to your cabin. We talk in de mornin'."

"Can I take a couple of them beers, boss?" Jimmy asked. "Thought Addy might like one."

"She gone, boy," he grunted. "Got too full of herself. Had ta teach 'er a lesson. Go on now. No time ta be thinkin' 'bout fuckin' some bitch don't know her place."

"But she's okay, ain't she?" He asked, trying to control his sudden fear and hold his temper.

"Don't push me, boy," Guidry growled, reaching out to grip the neck of his t-shirt, twisting it in his fist as he pulled his face close. "Shut the fuck up 'bout that skinny little girl and git on back to your cabin."

He could see Jake stand and take a step toward them, his intense blue eyes full of warning and he reluctantly took the hint and backed down.

"Yessir," he whispered.

Guidry pushed him away and Jake grabbed him by the arm and hustled him to the boardwalk. He suddenly felt drained of energy, and filled with numbing sadness. Addy had been the one bright spot in this hellhole and he wanted desperately to believe she was still alive. It was a tough thing to hope for with a man like Guidry, and he choked on his hatred for the man. He stumbled mindlessly along the path in front of his brother and felt nothing but cold emptiness inside, devoid of any sense of goodness or kindness. He felt more like being Jimmy Hale than during any other time on this assignment. There had only been a few people he had come across in his life that he'd personally wanted to kill, and Guidry now topped that list. Two of the others were already dead.

"You okay?" Jake asked softly as they approached their cabin.

"Fuck no."

"You don't know that he killed her," Jake said as he pushed open the door and led him inside.

"And you don't know that he didn't," the words rushing out with all the venom he was feeling. "This is Guidry. He doesn't do things halfway."

"Why don't you just go ask someone?" Elan said softly in his ear. "You won't be able to sleep until you know."

"He's right, kid," Roy added. "We're at the critical stage now. Ya can't get sidetracked."

"I'll go find out what happened," Callen offered. "You're worn out and pretty drunk."

"I'm not that drunk and I'm not that tired," he snapped as he stormed back out the door.

A rough hand to the chest stopped him in his tracks as the burly man named Beau came out of darkness and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. This time he swung at the man, but an iron hand wrapped around his wrist before he could make contact. Beau slammed him back against the wall of the cabin and held him there as he struggled.

"You're done," Jake said quietly as he placed the muzzle of his gun against the man's temple. "Now let him go."

"Can't. Mr. Guidry told me to keep him in the cabin," Beau said calmly.

"What makes you think I won't shoot you?" Jake asked.

"I don't want ta hurt 'im," Beau said. "Guidry sent me to protect 'im."

"From what, asshole?" Jimmy spit out.

"From doing something stupid," Beau answered. "Told me you're kind of a hothead and don't know when ta quit when ya get somethin' stuck in your craw, so he sent me to keep you in line."

"And just what stupid thing did Guidry think he was gonna do?" Jake asked as he lowered the gun.

"Go lookin' for Addy."

"You know her?" Jimmy asked softly. "Is she alive?"

"Guidry said you had a soft spot for that girl," Beau replied.

"That didn't answer his question," Jake said.

"Tell me what he did to her, Beau...please man," Jimmy said numbly, and the man let him loose.

"Don't think a man should beat on a woman, but Guidry weren't exactly askin' anyone's opinion."

"How bad?" Jimmy asked.

"Used a leather belt until she was screamin' pretty good," Beau said softly. "It was Tino who stopped him. Shocked the hell outa everybody, including Guidry."

"What did the boss do?" Jake asked.

"Think he respected him for it," Beau replied. "Tino and her mother been living together for awhile, so he's got a soft spot for the girl too."

"Don't think she feels the same," Jimmy said.

"Well she does now," Beau said, snorting out a small laugh.

"So she's okay?" Jimmy asked.

"Pea took 'er back to her mama," Beau replied. "Don't think she'll be back here again. No place for a young girl anyways. Specially a sweet one like her."

"Thanks, Beau," Jimmy said, and turned to go back inside.

"She was worried about you," the big man said. "Kept pestering Guidry about you."

"Is that why he beat her?" He turned to ask bitterly.

"Naw. She told Pea it was cause she told Guidry she wanted to go to school so she could be a teacher."

"Why would he beat her for that?" Jake asked.

"Guidry don't need no reason if it just hits him wrong," Beau said, shaking his head as if he couldn't understand it. "He don't think nobody should have a mind of their own. She did and he didn't like it."

"She'll be a good teacher," Jimmy said softly.

"You best tread easy with Guidry," Beau warned. "He can turn on ya as fast as lightning, so watch yourself. He's taken a likin' to ya, but don't let your guard down for a second."

"How do you know we won't turn on you and tell Guidry what you said?" Jake asked.

"I get a feelin' about people," he replied. "I don't think y'all are as mean as ya seem ta be. Easy to see how much Jimmy here cares about Addy. I believe you're good men, and good men don't rat out a man that just give 'em a righteous warnin'.

"Take care, Beau," Deeks said as he reached out to shake his hand. "You ain't the only one gets a feelin'. There's a big firefight comin', so watch your ass."

...

...


	29. Chapter 29

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 29_

...

Callen stood in the open doorway, annoyed that the night air was almost as sweltering as the inside of the cabin. He reached behind his head and pulled at the sweat soaked t-shirt that stuck to his body until finally yanking it off. Using it to wipe the sheen of moisture from his bare chest, he surveyed the surroundings, wondering if Beau had taken up a position behind the tree line. The man had stuck around the cabin for hours until he'd finally cracked the door open around midnight and told him to take off. He'd been reluctant, and had eventually moved away, but Callen wasn't sure he trusted that he was completely gone.

Deeks had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, but Callen found he wasn't the least bit inclined to even lie down, let alone sleep. The strange sounds that haunted the night didn't help. Odd screeches, unsettling sounds of scratching, and low growls occasionally jarred him out of his thoughts as he paced the hot, claustrophobic room, leaving him unsettled and irritable. His mind raged with questions and suspicions, going over and over the day, what was said, and what floated just under the surface. They were so close to shutting this whole operation down, but the details were troubling. As satisfying as it might seem to let Guidry and The Brotherhood blow away Pierce and his little rat pack, it would be messy and he couldn't really justify a bloodbath of that magnitude. They might deserve it, but then so did The Brotherhood, and wiping them all out would mean a heavy firefight that would put the whole team at risk. He had no desire to start a war they couldn't win or that got innocent people killed in the process. What worried him the most was that he had no idea what Guidry planned on doing, and might not until it actually happen, and that fact made him extremely nervous.

"You awake, G?"

"You really have to ask?" He replied softly, Sam's familiar voice easing some of the knotted muscles at the base of his neck. "Question is...why are you awake this early in the morning?"

"Trying to figure out how to take down an army, and save your skinny asses at the same time," he replied, sounding a little irritated himself.

"Me too."

"How's the smartass?" Roy asked.

"Sleeping."

"Good to know somebody can," Elan said.

"Find out anything on our military co-conspirators?" Callen asked.

"Their identities shocked the hell out of Hetty and especially Terrance Rigby, head of the Joint Terrorism Task Force," Sam informed him. "The man was so pissed, Hetty said it took almost five minutes to talk him out of going directly to General Greer's office and arresting him right then and there. Apparently they've known each other for quite some time. He knows General Rasmussen too."

"Not well, I'm guessin'," Roy sniped.

"Men like Rigby don't like being fooled," Sam said.

"Neither do men like Guidry," Callen replied. "And if this ends up in a firefight the odds won't be in our favor. Guidry's got some men here who have to be ex-military and tactically trained. He also might be planning to use explosives. They sure as hell have enough of them and men who know how to use them."

"You talking about the man who tried to blow up my rental car with me in it?" Sam mentioned lightly.

"Name's Prou," Callen said. "He's also probably the sniper who tried to take you out earlier."

"Y'all wonderin' what I'm wonderin'?" Roy cut in.

"It's two o'clock into the morning, Uncle Roy. Not the time for guessing games," Elan said wearily.

"I heard of General Rasmussen. He's a decorated Marine and some people claim he's a tactical genius," Roy said softly. "You can bet he'll have recon done on Mouton's place, and probably some men on overwatch. He ain't the trustin' type from what I've heard. Elan might have to take those boys out with one of them scary knives of his."

"Guidry will anticipate that move," Callen said quickly. "He'll send his own scouts out. Rather not have Elan caught in the middle."

"Thanks, Cuz."

"Just to update you," Sam said. "Safa and Roy will be running a little covert operation at Doctor Mouton's house tonight. They're gonna bug the place. If Pierce and the others show up early we'll know exactly what they're up to."

"Good idea," Callen replied. "Be sure and bug the pool house too. You never know where this might end up."

"How's Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked, and although he was surprised it was her first question, it was the sharpness of her tone that caught his attention.

"Guidry's freaking him out a little," Callen replied carefully. "He lost it today and almost got on the wrong side of the man. But he did manage to get Eliot Dale to give up Greer and Rasmussen."

"Do you think he really would have shot Eliot in the ass if the man hadn't given you the names?" Hetty asked.

"Do you really care?" Callen asked. "He got the intel."

"Let me put it more plainly, Mr. Callen," she replied. "Is Mr. Deeks stable enough to continue?"

Hetty always looked out for them, and he knew that's what she was doing now, but for some reason her question struck him wrong and his anger flared. He felt her question was unfair. She wasn't here, and couldn't see how hard Deeks was fighting to overcome the effects of the drugs they'd injected him with. She hadn't experienced the force of Guidry's will, or his mercurial nature, and she had no idea just how powerful his personality was or how his disturbing interest in Deeks had affected them both.

"Mr. Callen?"

"You want this guy or not?" he snapped, unable to keep his own emotions in check. "If you do, Jimmy Hale is the only one that bastard will allow close enough to do that for you."

"I agree, but that was not what I asked," she said. "Is he strong enough to continue? Or are you too close to give me an honest answer?"

"You want honesty or an excuse to pull us out?" He asked, suddenly realizing she was deeply concerned.

"When these two groups meet, we have no idea of the firepower you'll be up against," she replied pointedly. "If this op turns ugly, there is no way to assure your safety, Mr. Callen. You'll both be in the middle of it all and I'm worried we won't be able to protect you."

"So you want us to just walk away?" Callen was dumbfounded. "I've never walked out on an op in my life, Hetty, and you've never asked me to. Is that really what you want?"

"Rigby may not know Rasmussen's weaknesses, but he does know his strengths. He served with him. He knows how he thinks on a tactical mission," she replied. "Since climbing the ranks in Washington, he never goes anywhere now without an elite tactical squad to watch his back."

"I heard he became paranoid after his own special forces unit tried to frag the sonofabitch in Iraq," Roy added. "Guess he finally found some boys who'd take his orders."

"You know this op won't work without us, Hetty," Callen told her calmly.

"Then I'm putting together an elite tactical squad of my own," she said firmly. "I refuse to leave you two without sufficient back up if a firefight erupts. Mr. Hanna you will be in command."

"Who am I commanding, Hetty?"

"Whatever available SEAL team I can roust out of Little Creek at a moment's notice," she replied.

"Ain't met a commander yet who could say no to you, Hetty," Roy laughed.

"What about me?" Elan asked.

"Your sole job is to protect Deeks and Callen anyway you can," she replied.

"He may not be able to do that, Hetty, especially if the meeting takes place inside the house," Callen said. "He'll be exposed. It's too dangerous."

"I know what I'm doing, Cuz," Elan said stiffly.

"So do they," Callen shot back. "We'll just have to take care of ourselves while we're inside, but I wouldn't mind seeing that ugly face of yours if we get into a running firefight outside."

"You won't see me at all, if you insult my good looks again," Elan warned lightly.

"What about Safa?" Sam asked.

"She's a trained sniper like Kensi," Hetty revealed. "As is Mr. Blanchard. You two scout out the area around the doctor's house and find your spots, Roy. Stay there until this is over and all of our people are out of harm's way."

"Yes ma'am," Roy answered.

"You don't think this will end peacefully, do you Hetty?" Callen asked softly.

"That depends on Guidry, I'm afraid," she replied, the worry back in her voice.

"Now that's damn scary," Roy said. "Everyone keep your ears on. We don't want a clusterfuck on this one. Tell the kid to keep his head down, just don't tell 'im I said that or he'll probably do the opposite just ta spite me."

"We trying to take any of these guys alive, Hetty?" Sam asked.

"If at all possible...especially Pierce and his cronies," she replied. "I would love to see them publicly disgraced and humiliated, but that may or may not happen. There will undoubtedly be closed door Congressional hearings, and the blame spread around, probably without publicly revealing how close the country came to a major disaster perpetrated by people in some of the highest positions in our own justice department, not to mention the Joint Chiefs."

"Or some higher ups will take credit for what these boys did just to move up themselves," Roy said.

"You becoming a cynic in your old age, Mr. Blanchard?" Hetty asked.

"Just a realist, Hetty."

"Well, my reality is finding a way for all of us to survive the next eighteen to twenty-four hours," Callen said, his energy finally flagging.

"Get some sleep Mr. Callen," Hetty ordered. "We'll be awaiting your intel."

...

...

The pounding knock cut through his murky dream and he jerked awake, reaching for his gun. Deeks was already up. He stood barefoot in jeans in front of the now open door, a pale gray t-shirt hanging from one hand and his weapon in the other. His body was poised for action, and Callen saw his jaw clinch, but couldn't see who had come calling this early in the morning.

"Boss wants y'all."

It was all that was said and Deeks simply nodded his head with no hint of a smile. It wasn't hard to read his aggravation and he wondered what was bothering him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Callen pulled on his jeans and continued to watch his brother. After tucking his gun behind his back, Deeks quickly pulled the t-shirt over his head, the powerful muscles in his back moving tautly beneath his skin. Still silent, he turned his head to look back at him, and Callen saw a hardness in his eyes.

"You sleep at all?" He asked and Callen shrugged, offering no details.

"Want to tell me what's bugging you?"

"Want to share what everyone had to say last night?" His voice was low and there was a hint of irritation.

"If you were awake, why didn't you get on comms?"

"Had nothing to say."

"Then why are you pissed?"

"Who said I was?"

"I just did...now tell me why."

"Hetty doesn't think I can handle this, does she?" He asked, that vulnerable look almost masked by his anger.

"I won't lie. She's worried," he said honestly.

"Do all of them think I'm the weak one again?" This time the anger was plain.

"No one said that, brother."

"Then why did she want to pull us out?"

"Maybe because she doesn't want to see us dead."

"Bullshit," he spit out. "She puts all of us in harm's way every fucking day. It's her job."

"And this is ours and we need to do it," Callen said calmly. "She isn't pulling us out. She's gathering a SEAL team to back us up. So let's go get some coffee and find out what kind of wonderful things we have to look forward to today, little brother."

"You told her I lost it."

"You did, but not long enough to screw anything up," Callen said earnestly.

"So we're good?"

"If you let me go get coffee we are."

"I won't let you down, brother," Deeks comment was so heartfelt, Callen was stunned for a few seconds, unable to respond.

"No one thinks you will...especially me," Callen finally said as he stepped forward and gently gripped the back of his neck, pulling his head into his shoulder and hugged him.

When his brother stepped away, there was a shimmer of tears in his eyes and Callen felt a knot in his throat. They both knew today would be the culmination of their mission one way or the other. Whether either of them walked away from what was coming he didn't know, but he didn't let that thought take root. It would be too hard to function if he did. After today, Joe would be free to walk whatever path he chose, free of suspicion or the threat of death, and the Doucets would get justice for their brother. Who would live or who would die today hung in the balance, but he couldn't let that concern appear in his eyes or in his actions.

"Come on, Jimmy Hale," mimicking the local drawl, punching him softly in the chest. "Let's blow this fuckin' hot as hell shithole. Last chance ta get us a bowl of grits."

"I fuckin' hope so," Deeks laughed. "That stuff tastes like the white glue they gave us in kindergarten."

"You ate glue?"

"I was a messy paster," he admitted with a soft grin. "Glued my fingers together once during class, along with a blue canyon. I was too embarrassed to tell the teacher. Had to stay in during recess for refusing to put the crayon back in the box. My fingers were blue for a week."

"You've always been weird haven't you?" Callen asked quietly as they walked out into the muggy morning air.

His brother simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned softly back at him, and without warning he was struck with a sense of the pain he would suffer if he lost him. He choked on the emotions he suddenly couldn't control and he stopped and turned away, feeling sick.

"You okay?"

"Promise me you won't get yourself killed," Callen said.

"You're starting to sound like Kensi, brother."

He turned and put a hand on his chest, staring at him intensely as he asked him to promise one more time, needing to hear him say it.

"If you promise me the same," came the soft reply.

"You know I can't."

"We can both promise to watch each other's asses," Deeks said. "Mine being particularly fine, while yours has always been a little bit tight."

"Dumbass."

"Dickwad."

"Sorry to interrupt this fascinating critique you've got going on each other's asses," Nell interrupted on comms. "But, I have some crucial information you need to hear."

"What's up?" Callen asked, slowing his pace as they approached the edge of the main camp.

"We've been monitoring the bugs Safa placed in Harrison White's office," she replied. "He got a call very early this morning. It appears Pierce has someone undercover inside The Brotherhood."

"Shit," he said, putting his arm out to stop Deeks.

"But we don't think he answers to White," she continued. "We think it's one of the generals, we just don't know which one. He was careful not to use any names. Hetty wants to know if anyone seems suspicious."

"Beau."

Deeks looked quickly at him and nodded, and they made their way over to the tree line, disappearing from view. Callen felt his body flood with adrenaline as the new information settled in. It made sense that Pierce would have put a man inside, and he was pissed they hadn't considered it earlier. His mind quickly clouded with questions. Did Guidry know? Probably not, or he wouldn't have assigned him to watch out for Jimmy. Where had the man been all this time? And most importantly, had he overheard him last night on comms?

"He's a problem," Callen said softly.

"I don't think he made us," Deeks whispered.

"But I think he's suspicious," he replied. "And if he overheard me while I was on comms last night, we're in deep trouble."

"He didn't or he would have said something to White," Nell assured them.

"He must have a satphone stashed some place," Callen said, his worry growing.

"We have to find a way to let Guidry know he's working for Pierce," his brother said quietly. "If Beau finds out Guidry's plan and passes it on, that upcoming meeting will turn into a death trap."

"Nell? Let me hear what you picked up from the bug," Callen ordered.

The conversation was terse, and they both immediately recognized Beau's voice. Callen got the impression that White wasn't happy about the call. Beau asked about them by name, and White assured him that Jimmy was just who he said he was, cursing when Beau expressed doubts about his interrogation methods. Beau told him that Guidry had beaten Mouton and Eliot, but apparently had no idea what Guidry was planning and Deeks' smiled. It was the last comment that had him worried. Beau obviously knew exactly what kind of man Guidry was, and had warned White that Guidry was still angry about what they'd done to Jimmy Hale, and promised to find out his plans one way or the other.

"Thanks, Nell. Keep us posted if you pick up anything else," Callen said.

"Of course, and I'll be listening, you two," she replied. "Hate to have any more ass comparisons enter the classified documents on this case."

"Copy that," Deeks said absently. "Beau is still unsure about us, G."

"Maybe, but he knows we're close to Guidry, so he'll work us for information."

"Then I guess we'll have to work him right back," Deeks grinned.

"Don't get cocky."

"You realize you stole that line from Hans Solo," Deeks laughed.

He shrugged, smirking as he acknowledged the truth. "Yeah, well don't."

Callen shoved him toward camp, walking out of the tree line to see Tino coming their way. He seemed agitated and that was never good.

"Where the hell you two been?" He asked. "Guidry's been askin' for ya."

"Just had to have a little talk with my brother here," Jake explained. "He's pissed about the guard, Beau."

"Better not tell the boss that," he warned. "He's just lookin' out for ya, kid, so don't piss him off. He ain't in the mood."

"What's up?" Jake asked.

"Pierce just changed the location for the meet."

"It's not gonna be at Doc Mouton's place anymore?" Jimmy asked, and Callen heard Nell swear. "Why not?"

"The asshole wouldn't say and that's got Antoine's dick in a twist."

"Think Pierce is expecting something?" Jake asked.

"Boss ain't sure," Tino said as they followed him quickly through the waking camp.

They approached Guidry as he sat hunched over in a chair on the porch of his cabin. Prou and Pea were with him, but they were keeping their distance. As Jake stepped up onto the porch, Guidry shot out of the chair and knocked him to the ground, leaving him breathing heavily in the dirt and his ears ringing. Jimmy stepped in front of him, his fists ready.

"What the fuck was that for?" Jimmy asked.

"When I send for y'all, ya come. Don't keep me waitin' on your asses. Ya hear me?" He growled.

"Got it, Boss," Jake said as he slowly got to his feet. "Won't happen again."

"It was my fault," Jimmy confessed. "We got in an argument and Jake had ta set me straight."

"He don't like Beau," Tino said with a wicked grin.

"You spoilin' for a fight wid me, boy?" Guidry asked.

"No sir. Just don't know 'im, or trust 'im much neither," Jimmy said. "And I don't need no guard. I got Jake."

Guidry slapped him hard across the face, bloodying his lip, and Callen could see he was struggling not to fight back.

"Every man here do what I tell 'im to, mon fils," Guidry said. "You no different"

"Yessir."

"What'd you want us for, Boss?" Jake asked, hoping to distract the man from his brother.

"Pierce be fuckin' wid me," he replied as he slumped back into his chair. "Talked to 'im dis mornin'. Told 'im what Eliot said 'bout dem generals. He got pissed when I told 'im I weren't givin' back the doc or Eliot unless I meet dem two. Told 'im I'd bring 'em ta the doc's place, but dem generals better be dere."

"Did the fuck agree?" Jake asked.

"Did, but he call back a bit ago and say de meetin' weren't gonna be at de doc's," he replied. "Say he gonna call me when we get close to Mouton's. De sonofabitch won't tell me where. Don't like it."

"He don't trust you, sir," Jimmy said softly.

"Or he knows somethin'," Jake warned, figuring it might be a good time to stoke Guidry's inherent paranoia.

"How?" Tino asked.

"Maybe somebody's feedin' 'im information," Jake replied.

"Ya think one of de Brotherhood is a traitor?" Guidry's eyes getting narrow and dark as he spoke.

"Wouldn't put it past those bastards," Jimmy said, spitting his disgust into the dirt.

Guidry's eyes turned inward and Callen could practically see him assessing everything and everybody, leaving him with a nasty look, his mouth twisting into a snarl, and his eyes turbulent. His face took on a feral look as he stared at each man on the porch in turn, making Pea and Prou nervous and hurrying to pledge their undying loyalty until he looked away and their babbling died on their lips. Even Tino moved uneasily from foot to foot as his boss glared at him, but he finally stood to his full height and solemnly shook his head and Guidry simply nodded. His eyes passed quickly over him and Jimmy, and Callen realized they finally had the man's complete trust, and he felt ashamed of the sense of pride that welled inside of him.

"You boys start talkin' ta the men," Guidry said. "I want dis traitor found and brought ta me, ya hear? Kick ass if ya think somebody lyin'."

As they all started to leave, Guidry grabbed Jimmy by the arm to stop him, and Callen became guarded, unsure what the man might do.

"Ya don't like Beau...why, mon fils?"

"Told me not to trust you," Jimmy replied. "Said you don't like people to think for themselves. Sounded disrespectful."

"How long he been a member of The Brotherhood, Boss?" Jake asked.

"I been thinkin' on dat," Guidry replied. "Joined up a couple of months after we started workin' wid Pierce. Seven months, maybe. Used ta be an Army Ranger, so he say. He de one suspected dem two federal agents weren't who dey say dey were."

Callen felt Deeks flinch beside him and he stepped in front of him, concerned Guidry might notice his subtle, but very angry reaction. Beau had been the one who had alerted Pierce or one of the others that there might be federal agents inside The Brotherhood. His own anger simmered, but it was Deeks he was afraid for, worried he might not be able to stay within his alias when they confronted Beau. The man had sounded almost friendly as they'd talked the night before, warning them about Guidry and now he wondered if they'd been played. If the man was on to them, he hadn't said anything to White in so many words, but he had questioned his interrogation methods and that was worrisome.

"You two go find dat sonofabitch," Guidry ordered coldly. "Den we get de truth outa 'im."

Neither one spoke as they headed back up toward the cabin. They both knew it would be Beau who would find them. He needed information and Callen had sensed from what he'd said to Harrison White that he prided himself on his ability to get the intel he needed. The man definitely had military training, but he suspected he might have been trained to carry out black ops and that meant he probably answered to one of the generals. He had to be good or Joe would have been on to him. He sure as hell had fooled Guidry and his top lieutenants.

"You okay?" He asked Deeks as they neared the cabin.

"Joe never even suspected the guy," he sounded amazed, and a wounded look of regret softened his face for a moment.

"Neither did we."

That realization seemed to sadden him, adding to the deepening sense of anger that cloaked him. Deeks loved Joe and now he knew exactly who to blame for what happened to him and his partner.

"Stay focused, kid."

"I am."

"Just remember you're Jimmy," his voice hard as he tried to rein in his brother. "You can't break cover."

"You really think we fooled that bastard?"

"So far, and we need to keep doing it," Callen stopped and pulled him around to face him. "If we give Beau any reason to suspect us, and we take him to Guidry, he'll out us in a second and Guidry might just believe him."

"I know," Deeks said quietly, but he wouldn't look at him and Callen suddenly wanted to knock some sense into him.

"I need you to have my back, brother," he said softly. "Can you do that?"

"Of course," he replied and a faint grin flickered across his features.

Deeks trotted up to the cabin and pushed open the door, turning to look at him with a cocky look of confidence before disappearing inside. Callen smiled as he followed him, knowing he would never do anything to let him down even with all the newfound anger he now carried. As he stepped inside a low moan made him hesitate, and the door was suddenly slammed shut behind him. Beau stood in the dimness of the overheated cabin, his arm across his brother's chest, holding him up as he slumped to his knees unconscious and slowly bleeding from a gash above his eye. He had the muzzle of a Glock pressed into his brother's temple, and he was smiling.

"That was a lot easier than I thought it would be," he said in a hard, low voice as his smile faded. "Toss your weapons on the bed. I already got your brother's gun. Any other weapons I should know about? And don't lie or I'll clock him again."

"Few pistols in that duffle bag in the corner," Jake replied, letting his alias's anger speak for him. "Thought you was supposed to protect Jimmy. Why you doin' this?"

"Shut up and turn around. Get on your knees and clasp your hands behind your head," he ordered. "Got any knives stashed?"

"No," he lied. "We don't like 'em much. Now what the fuck do you want?"

"Face down, asshole, and keep your hands behind your head."

He did as he was told, bracing himself on his elbows before flattening his chest to the floor and laying his cheek against the dusty wood. His anger was hot as he heard Elan mutter something in Arapaho on comms, his voice betraying the fear and frustration that matched his own.

"Guidry ain't gonna like this," Jake warned, as he tried to control his emotions.

He heard Deeks' body hit the floor, and his chest tightened as he raised his head, trying to see if he was all right, but Beau was already on him and slammed his head back down. Momentarily stunned, he didn't react fast enough, and Beau yanked his hands down behind his back and quickly tied them together before hogtying his feet to them.

"Now we can talk," Beau said as he dragged the chair over and sat down beside him. "You and your brother might not like knives, but I find them damn effective. You don't give me the answers I need, I cut you. You make any sound whatsoever when I do and I cut one of your little brother's ears off. You call out for help and your brother gets a blade between his ribs. Got it?"

Before he could answer, the man sliced the knife across his left arm and he bit his lip trying not to cry out. His rage blossomed unchecked at his carelessness for letting this happen, hoping Deeks wasn't too badly hurt. He struggled to remain calm as the man stood and then straddled him, sitting down hard and crushing his hands into his back. Beau was big and strong and Callen fought to breathe as the man forced the air out of his lungs and wrapped a hand around his throat.

"Tell me what Guidry's got planned for his meeting with Pierce," he whispered, punctuating his question by slowly pushing the point of the knife into his shoulder, holding it there as he waited for his answer.

Callen struggled to endure the burning pain as sweat broke out all over his body. He had to be convincing and giving in easily would be suspicious. The man's fingers gouged into his throat as he pushed the knife deeper, and Callen blinked hard as he tried to muffle a scream, finally hissing as Elan spoke calmly in his ear, trying to encourage him.

Callen finally gave in as he began to quiver with chills. "He's pissed Pierce didn't tell him about the two generals working with him. He don't like people holding out on 'im."

The knife went deeper and Callen was afraid he was going to pass out, unsure what more he could say to stop the blinding pain.

"What else, asshole?" Beau asked, twisting the knife as he asked. "He planning a reprisal for what they did to Jimmy?"

"Why would he do that?" Callen gasped in a whisper.

"Because he's an irrational sonofabitch," he laughed as he pulled the knife out. "He doesn't do anything that makes sense. He's a mean bastard who enjoys other people's pain, and acts out emotionally if someone crosses him. Seen him do it and I'm guessing you have too."

"You sure as hell seem ta be havin' a good time torturing me," Callen said, weakly. "What makes you any different than Guidry?"

"I'm not insane," he replied.

"Rather follow someone like Guidry than a cold hearted bastard like you," Callen said, knowing it was probably stupid to say it.

"You don't strike me as a follower, Jake," Beau said. "In fact, I'm not sure about either one of you. Can't really put my finger on it, but there's something a little bit off about you and your brother."

"Could say the same about you," he said. "You ain't a good ol' boy are ya?"

"I'm a soldier and more of a patriot than anyone in this camp, including Guidry," Beau said. "If Guidry does try something, General Rasmussen has already anticipated it and made plans to neutralize any attack. His men will cut this ragtag bunch to ribbons. He's a brilliant tactician and a patriot. A man destined for greatness."

"You plan on kissin' his ass all the way to the top?" Callen couldn't help himself and heard Elan's sharp intake of breath before calling him a dumbass.

Beau slammed his head into the floor and white spots dance behind his eyes as sadness and regret enveloped him. He'd failed and they both would die for it. Beau grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head up and he waited for the man to slit his throat. There was a sudden rush of movement behind him and he heard Beau grunt and stiffen, gasping for breath as the knife slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. The weight of the man was suddenly shoved off of him and his body thudded softly as it collapsed on the floor beside him.

The sound of Deeks' breathless voice in his ear was the sweetest thing he'd heard in a long, long time and he closed his eyes, trying to get used to the idea that he wasn't going to die. He couldn't even talk, silently waiting as his brother cut him free. He shivered from the shock and the pain, but managed to raise up on his elbows to look over at the dead body lying beside him in a growing pool of blood.

"You're bleeding," Deeks said haltingly as he helped him up and over to the chair.

"So are you," he whispered, wrapping his hands over the bloody wounds on either shoulder.

"One of you please tell me that bastard is dead," Elan pleaded hoarsely.

"Yeah Cuz, he is." Deeks said as he staggered over and sat down hard on the bed, his hand pressed against his head. "Sorry, brother. Didn't see the guy till it was too late."

"My fault...I should have known he'd attack us here," Callen replied.

"Let's just agree that you're both dumbasses and leave it at that," Elan said. "How bad you two hurt?"

"Bastard bashed me in the head," Deeks replied as he wiped at the blood on his face. "Didn't realize he was cuttin' on you until I stabbed the sonofabitch. You didn't make a sound, brother."

"Threatened to cut off your ear if I did and I don't think Kensi would ever forgive me if I let that happen."

"Me either, brother," Deeks grinned wearily.

"You had my back," Callen said.

"Literally," he replied. "Told you hiding that knife under the mattress was a good idea."

"How long you gonna gloat?"

"At least until you stop bleeding."

"Who was that guy?" Elan asked, making them aware he hadn't been on comms during their meeting with Guidry.

"He's the guy who blew Joe's cover...Oscar's too," Deeks replied.

"I'll call the ranch," Elan said softly. "The Doucets will want to know the bastard's dead. Might give them some peace."

"What about Joe?"

"He won't find peace until you two are home safe. None of us will."

...

...


	30. Chapter 30

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 30_

...

Elan had rallied everyone to comms and their voices babbled and buzzed in his ears, but nothing was as distinct as the pain on his brother's face. At first Callen had tried to disguise it, but his eyes betrayed him, as did the shivering brought on by the inevitable shock. When his adrenaline finally faded, Deeks was bull rushed by the enormity of what had happened, leaving him shaken, his usual jokes falling flat before ever reaching his tongue. He silently cursed himself as he tried to stem the blood flow from the deep puncture wound in the muscle of his brother's right arm, the scene he'd woken to playing over and over again in his head. To be taken unawares like that and to have his brother suffer for his mistake was intolerable, something he would regret for a very long time. If he hadn't regained consciousness, if he hadn't remembered the knife under the end of the mattress, or if Beau hadn't taken his time fawning over the glory that was General Rasmussen, he would have entered a never ending nightmare of his own making.

"I'm...I'm sorry..." He said, the apology hopelessly inadequate.

"For what? Killing that bastard or saving my life?" His irrepressible smirk reminding him how tough he was.

"For making a mistake that let him get to you. He never should have taken me that easily," Deeks said, as he tied a strip he'd torn from a t-shirt over the wound.

"We're still alive brother, and if you've learned anything from Sam you'll ding me for a steak dinner for saving my ass," he replied. "Now let it go. We have to figure out how to get ahead of this mess."

"I'll buy you two the biggest steaks in LA if you can do that," Sam said. "Sounds to me like both groups are spoiling for war."

"Pierce can't afford a war, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said. "Not now. It will screw with his master plan."

"He may get one whether he wants one or not," Callen said wearily. "Rasmussen doesn't sound like the kind of man who wants to be under anyone's thumb. Pierce may not be able to control him, especially if he doesn't hear from Beau."

"I'm meeting my assigned SEAL team at 0900. We'll be ready to go to wherever you need us," Sam offered.

"That's one of the problems," Deeks said. "Pierce won't give Guidry a location until he gets close to the doctor's house."

"Which means deployin' a counterattack against either group ain't gonna be a walk in the park," Roy grumbled.

"Does Guidry really mean to go in and just start shooting everybody?" Safa asked.

"He did, but when I tell him what Beau said about Rasmussen, he may rethink that," Callen said. "Guidry is the wild card in all of this. We already told him Pierce wants to use him and then take him down. He's not about to let that go."

"Mr. Beale? Any info on Rasmussen's travel plans?" Hetty asked.

"Let me just say...Terrance Rigby and Harold Bellamy, Safa's boss, make a great team," Eric replied. "They not only worked together to bug the man's office, but Bellamy discovered that Rasmussen has two elite squads under his personal command. One is due to land at the Naval Air Station at Belle Chasse at 1400 hours today."

"Numbers, Mr. Beale?"

"Twelve...on a military transport."

"Are the pilots under General Rasmussen's command?" Hetty asked.

"No ma'am," he replied. "They're Navy."

"Good. I'll have them re-routed in the air," she said firmly. "That should give us some breathing room and hopefully even the odds slightly."

"Where ya gonna send 'em, Hetty?" Roy laughed.

"I was thinking they might like an early tour of Guantanamo. They should be on the ground before dinner time."

"Too bad the others won't be on board," Deeks said.

"We need to know more details about what Guidry is planning," Hetty said.

"And G needs these wounds stitched," Deeks said, noticing that the makeshift bandage was already soaked with blood.

"Of course. Can you continue, Mr. Callen?" She asked.

"We both can," Deeks snapped back, remembering her earlier concerns about him.

"Then you have a job to do, gentlemen," she replied. "We'll be monitoring you and will keep you apprised of any pertinent information on Pierce and the others. This ends today."

Callen slumped in the chair when the voices stopped, and Deeks worried that he might have spoken too soon about his ability to stay on his feet.

"Come on, brother," Deeks said. "Gotta be someone in this godforsaken place who knows how to set in a row of stitches."

"A couple of pain meds would be nice if you hadn't taken them all," he replied as Deeks helped him to his feet.

He assumed the comment was supposed to be a lighthearted dig, but the reality of the situation made him take it to heart, so he said nothing. He got his shoulder under Callen's arm and they made their way out into the rising heat, both stumbling over the uneven ground.

"You usually get my jokes," Callen finally said.

"Who told you you were funny?"

Callen stopped and turned to face him. "I'm damn funny when I need to be. Just ask Sam. And a little humor right now is exactly what I need. That bastard was about to slit my throat, and I need to get past that, so laugh at my damn jokes. I'm your partner. That's your job."

"Well your last one sucked, partner" he snapped back.

"I don't blame you, kid. So stop blaming yourself," Callen said with irritation. "It's a distraction."

That they were sniping at each other bothered him. When he'd first regained consciousness and saw Callen hog-tied and face down on the floor with Beau on top of him, he'd almost cried out. Adrenaline had rushed through him followed instantly by a deep-seated anger. He'd become filled with deadly cold determination to save him. He didn't even remember pulling the knife from under the mattress, simply acting silently and deliberately as he'd been trained to do. In one swift movement he'd shoved the blade of the knife deep and hard into Beau's kidneys, and yanked it upward as Sam had taught him. He'd shoved him off Callen without a second thought, afraid he'd been too late. Then he saw his brother's bloody arms and the shock had hit him hard.

"I can't help but blame myself, G," he whispered. "So I'm sorry if I can't come up with some lame joke to make you feel better."

"That's nothing new," he replied. "All your jokes are lame."

"Touché, brother," he laughed, breaking the tension between them.

"Told you I was funny."

"If you have to tell someone your funny, you're not funny."

"Let's just agree to disagree."

"Sam can be the tiebreaker," Deeks said, grinning softly at the look on his brother's face.

"What the hell happened to you two?" Tino called out as they walked into the clearing.

"Beau jumped us," Jake said weakly.

"He was workin' for General Rasmussen," Jimmy said. "Knocked me out and then tortured Jake for information about the boss's plans."

"Where is the fucker?" Tino growled.

"In our cabin. Jimmy killed 'im," Jake said.

"Got anybody around who might be able to stitch Jake up?" Jimmy asked. "Need to stop the bleeding."

"Pea can do that," Tino said. "He was a medic in Afghanistan."

"No shit?" Jimmy said. "Does he have somethin' for the pain?"

"I can help ya with that," he replied as he took Jake's arm to help him toward Guidry's place.

As they made their way through camp, some of the men began to follow them, and Deeks could sense their anger. That they were angry because of what had been done to them was oddly comforting, and it was hard to dispel the feeling of brotherhood with these men, even though they'd been sent to take them down. The militiamen had just discovered they'd lived with a spy for a very long time without realizing it, and they all looked ready for some payback. It was unsettling that he understood it all from their perspective, as if he really had become one of them.

Guidry was on the porch talking to a few of the men when they walked up and the look on his face when he saw them was nothing but raw rage.

"Jimmy killed our traitor, boss," Tino called out. "It was Beau. Pistol whipped Jimmy and cut up Jake pretty bad tryin' ta get 'im ta talk."

The look on Guidry's face was lethal when he got to them and roughly pushed the hair away from the bloody gash on Deeks' forehead. He tried not to wince when his thumb wiped at the blood, but the man saw his slight reaction and patted him softly on the cheek. When he turned his attention to Jake, his mouth twisted and his eyes took on a feral look as he stepped up and grabbed Jake's bloody right arm to examine the deep wound. Callen's face paled, but he didn't cry out as he stumbled against Deeks, who wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him up.

"He ambush ya?"

"Waited in our cabin," Jake said. "Never saw 'im till he had Jimmy out cold with a gun to his head. The sonofabitch forced me to the floor and hog-tied me."

"Jake told me the fucker threatened ta cut my ear off if he made a sound," Jimmy said.

"Never did, did ya?" Guidry said with a disturbing smile. "You a tough bastard, Jake. Now who dat couyon answer to?"

"General named Rasmussen," Jake said softly, blinking slowly as he slumped against his brother.

"Can he sit down, sir?" Jimmy asked, feeling Callen trembling from shock.

"Pea? Take dese boys in de cabin and clean 'em up," Guidry ordered. "Some of y'all go drag dat sorry-assed traitor over by our guests. Let 'em see what dey got comin'."

"Rasmussen has his own squad of guards, boss. They're trained military guys and they'll be armed with assault rifles," Jake said, staying stubbornly where he was. "They're gonna be layin' in wait for you when you go to meet Pierce."

"Dey wanna kill me?" He growled.

"Don't think so, but if you try anything they'll open up on all of us for sure," Jake replied.

"Dey not gonna get de chance," Guidry said in a low, hard voice. "You go get dem cuts taken care of and let me worry 'bout dos double-crossin' rat bastards. Dey gonna be sorry dey fucked wid me."

Deeks saw Callen's eyes widen at the deadly threat, and he felt the whole operation spinning out of control.

"Whatcha gonna do, boss?" Jimmy asked, knowing the team needed the intel.

"Gonna deliver a message, boy," he replied as he strode toward the platform where the doctor and Eliot were tied up.

Deeks ventured a look at Callen and saw the subtle sign he gave for him to follow. He felt the weight of the operation settle heavily on his shoulders, but took a deep breath and headed after Guidry. He had seen Guidry angry, but he had always seemed in control of that anger, using it like a weapon. Now, he looked like a wild animal caught in a trap and that same dark anger now seemed totally out of his control. When he stepped up on the platform, Guidry was already within inches of Eliot's face, his fist twisted in the front of his shirt, berating him unmercifully.

"Y'all plan dis from de beginnin', didn't ya, couyon?" He screamed. "Y'all just usin' me and my boys till y'all got whatcha wanted. It was a double-cross from de start, and den y'all was gonna kill every damn one of us, startin' wid me."

"No,no,no...it wasn't me...I told Pierce it wasn't right," Eliot whimpered. "Please...it wasn't my idea."

"Y'all sent a man ta spy on me, couyon," he said, almost sounding reasonable. "Dis here boy and his brother...dey figure it out. Dey loyal. Dis here boy kill dat big fuck."

Eliot looked over at him with real surprise, and he laughed, realizing Eliot knew Beau and couldn't quite believe he had taken him down. Then his eyes widened with real fear as four men hefted Beau's dead body up onto the platform, his dark blood instantly staining the wood. Guidry walked over to the body, staring down at Beau before grabbing one of his arms and dragging him into the middle between the two captives. Doc Mouton started to cry, which made Guidry laugh.

"When ya was pumpin' my boy here full of dem drugs, did he cry?" Guidry asked, pulling Jimmy in front of the doctor. "How 'bout when he was gunshot on your table waitin' for ya ta sew 'im up. He cry den?"

"No...no...he was very brave," Mouton whispered, sniffling back frightened tears.

"Dat's right. He brave and strong. A loyal member of De Brotherhood," Guidry said in the old man's face. "But y'all don't care nothin' 'bout dat. Y'all ain't brave patriots like dis here boy and his brother. Dese two boys is de backbone of dis country and y'all want ta kill 'em like dey weren't worth nothin'. Wanna kill me too, dontcha Doc?"

The old man deflated in front of them, tears streaking his face as he looked up at the trees above them, resigned to whatever was coming. He recalled the doctor's cold efficiency as he'd injected him with all those drugs. There had been no sympathy at all in his eyes then, just a look of superiority and cool detachment. Deeks wasn't sure what Guidry was going to do, and he suddenly felt sorry for the old man, realizing he didn't want the man to die.

"You gonna kill 'im right now, boss?" He asked.

"You gotta problem wid dat, mon fils?"

"Nossir. Just thinkin' I'd like to see the look on Pierce and Harrison White's face if ya kill the bastard right in front of 'em," Jimmy said with a slow smile. "Maybe they won't be so full of themselves after that."

Guidry stared at him long and hard and Deeks tried to prepare himself in case he'd just pissed the maniac off. The indecision in the man's eyes reminded him of his father when he was trying to decide just what punishment he deserved for whatever screw up he'd committed. But he wasn't a little boy anymore, and he didn't back away from what was coming, just looked nonchalantly back at Guidry, showing no fear. When he saw the man smile, he knew he had put off the doctor's execution at least for the moment.

"You damn clever boy," Guidry said, slapping him lightly on the cheek.

Guidry turned toward Eliot as he pulled the big knife from behind his back, twisting it back and forth, seemingly mesmerized as he watched the fat blade catch the morning light. Deeks suddenly felt his stomach drop, realizing the man's bloodlust still ran hot and there would be no easy way to save the young man starting to plead for his life. His mouth filled with a bitter taste as Guidry put a rough hand on his back and steered him across the platform. Eliot looked stricken. He knew what was coming and his eyes sought out his own as if he could pull another reprieve out of his pocket. Guidry was naturally suspicious, so saving Eliot would put him and his brother at risk, so he slowly shook his head and allowed his regret to show as Guidry drew him closer. The abject fear on Eliot's face ignited his guilt, and he foolishly suggested the same scenario, but Guidry never let him finish, delivering a sharp slap across his ear ending whatever hope Eliot might have had.

"One be enough, boy. Now...Ya want ta do 'im, mon fils?" Guidry asked as Eliot babbled out all the reasons why he was a valuable asset.

"That should be your honor, sir," he replied, the cowardly words tasting sour on his tongue.

His fingers twitched nervously against his leg when Guidry smiled, and turned his attention to Eliot. When he laid the flat of the blade against the young man's cheek, Deeks fought to stay within his alias, taking a step back as a knot formed deep in his belly.

"Ya crossed me, couyon," Guidry's voice so very soft and so very cold. "You a weaselly little shit. Wanted me dead before we ever did meet. You a stupid sonofabitch ta want dat, and ya know dat now dontcha couyon?"

The knife flashed and Eliot screamed, the smell of blood instant and Deeks struggled not to gag. The second scream sputtered into a soft gurgle, and he watched the life fade from the man's eyes as Guidry continued his enraged assault. It was if he had lost complete control, not caring that the man was already dead, gorging on his roaring bloodlust with a vengeance.

Deeks felt frozen in place, praying he wouldn't vomit right there and be the recipient of what remained of Guidry's rage. The man finally exhausted himself with the violence of his attack, but seemed spellbound by the bloody body in front of him, remaining in place as he panted.

"Nobody fuck wid me and live," Guidry said as if it were a mantra. "You lie ta me, I gut ya. Don't let no couyon lie ta me."

When Guidry finally turned away his face was spattered with blood, his shirtfront soaked with gobs of gore and Deeks steeled himself, forcing his expression to remain placid as if this kind of violence was justified and normal. He desperately wanted to walk away, but knew it would be dangerous if he did. Guidry's eyes were wild and fixed on his as if he didn't know him. He watched as Guidry methodically wiped the blade of the bloody knife on the front leg of his jeans.

"Don't just stand dere, boy," he suddenly said, and Deeks jumped at the sound of his voice. "Go get me a whiskey. Killin' business make me thirsty."

The order was all he needed to turn and rush to jump off the platform, to get away from the horror he had just witnessed. He found he couldn't breathe, almost afraid that if he did he would scream. He was clinching his jaw so tightly he wasn't sure he'd be able to ask where the whiskey was. He tried to focus his mind on anything that would keep the revulsion from showing on his face, but nothing came to mind, and he suddenly worried he would be found out and that Guidry would finish what Beau had started.

"Jimmy?" Callen's voice soft as he called to him.

He stared blankly around Guidry's cabin, not remembering how he had gotten there, but now desperately searching for his brother in the dim light. When he saw him sitting on a low cot in the back of the room, he realized they were alone.

"The others went to watch," Callen said. "You okay?"

"I may never be okay," he whispered, stumbling toward him.

Dark stitches tracked across both his brother's shoulders, but his eyes drew his attention as they searched his own. He saw the understanding that he needed and he reached for him as he stood to face him.

"You can handle this, brother," Callen said and he heard no doubt in his voice. "Look at me. You're tough, kid. Hold onto that and you won't make a mistake."

"If I do, he won't give us time to regret it," he said, finally blowing out his breath as Callen clasped the back of his neck.

"This'll be over soon," Callen said. "We're gonna get outa this, brother."

"Yeah, no...just hope it's soon," Deeks murmured, grateful for the encouragement, even though he wasn't sure he believed it. "Gotta go...sent me for a bottle of whiskey."

"Hope he shares."

"Me too," Deeks replied as he grabbed the whiskey bottle off the table and walked out into the warm air now fouled by the smell of blood.

...

...

Deeks swatted at another swarm of insects that seemed to find him attractive in the beat down heat of the late afternoon. Once the boats had left the narrow waterways that snaked through the swamp and cleared the canopy of trees, the heat became oppressive and the insects followed. Sweat had already soaked the gray t-shirt he wore, and he was grateful for the gimme caps Tino had tossed them both before they left. Both were red, his quite faded and from a place called Fred's Lounge in Mamou, while Callen's advertised Wally's Garage in Lafayette. Apparently Tino's uncle owned it.

He noticed that Callen had dozed off again and the itch of worry returned. The hum of the various motors made him drowsy as well, but he forced himself to remain vigilant, counting the number of men again in the strung out flotilla of The Brotherhood. He had tried to join Pea in another boat, but Guidry wouldn't have it, yanking him away and shoving him toward his own boat along with Tino, Callen and the nearly catatonic doctor. The residual anger from the morning cloaked the man, his eyes remaining turbulent and his temper short. Even Tino was keeping his distance.

"How much further?" He asked Tino.

"Less than an hour maybe, till we reach Mouton's place," he replied. "Don't know where we're headed after that."

"Think fifteen of us gonna be enough?" He asked, wanting the team to know what they were up against.

"Dontcha worry boy. More close by if we need 'em," Guidry snapped, and he silently cursed the man and The Brotherhood.

"Mr. Deeks? Mr. Callen? Listen carefully," Hetty said in his ear and he saw Callen slowly open his eyes. "Pierce and the others, except for Jacqueline Bennett, flew in early this morning and have been meeting at Ezra Mouton's house. The two generals are with them. They went over all their plans in detail, reiterating their intention to assassinate the Attorney General and his second in command. The bugs that Roy and Safa placed have given us all we need to take them into custody for treason, among other things. Harrison White was there, but his location at the moment is unknown. I will keep you informed as the day plays out."

It took everything he had not to verbally respond, and he looked quickly over at Callen who had a weary smirk on his face.

"Sam and the SEAL team are in the vicinity and as soon as we have a location they will rendezvous at that position. And remember, Elan and Roy will have eyes on you, and will do whatever they can to pull you out safely if things go south."

He had so many questions, but no way to ask them, longing for this to be over so much he was vibrating with adrenaline. Everything felt exaggerated, the bugs loud in his ears, the sound of the water slapping the side of the boat, the thickness of the air as he tried to draw in a breath, all of it adding to his anxiousness. He slid his gun out and checked it and saw Callen do the same, as Hetty filled their ears with more information.

"The Deputy Assistant Attorney General, Morgan Bellamy, of the NSD is now in control at the New Orleans Task Force. The necessary people there have been informed of Harrison White's activities and a full tactical squad, under the command of Special Agent Colin Murphy of Homeland is on the way to assist in the arrests. General Rasmussen's private little army is on its way to Guantanamo, so we should have the upper hand in firepower. You are not alone, gentlemen."

His heart was racing, but knowing that they had friendly eyes on them, gave him hope that the two of them would come out of this nightmare alive. He would keep close to Callen, knowing his ordeal had weakened him, but as he looked at him his faith in his brother's strength surged. The man was tough, especially when he needed to be and in spite of the pain he was undoubtedly dealing with.

"I got your back, brother," he mouthed silently, and Callen lifted his head in response, his eyes clear and intense.

Guidry was growing more agitated the closer they got and when they entered the small bayou that bordered Mouton's house, he grabbed up the satphone and made a call.

"Where dis meet gonna be, Pierce?" He rasped out, his anger barely contained.

Deeks watched intently as the madman listened, his mouth twisting into a frown and his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I got your people," he said. "So y'all better have dem generals along or dis gonna be a short meetin'."

He finally shot a look at Tino and grunted a response before throwing the phone down.

"Got us a private meetin' place wid lots of cover," Guidry said smugly. "'Member dat construction yard down the bayou, Tino? Just below Mouton's? Got all dem cranes and stacks of steel girders and shippin' containers? Dats de meetin' place."

"LaPierre's place? Must be three or four acres of woodland surroundin' that yard," Tino replied as he cut back on the throttle. "Nobody round there much lately."

"Could be a set up," Jake said.

"We be de ones doin' de setup. We gonna surprise dem backstabbers," Guidry replied. "We drop our boys off before we get dere. Dey watch our backs from de edge of de trees. When I gut Doc Mouton de boys can start shootin'. Dem bastards ain't gonna know what hit 'em."

Deeks was chilled and he heard Hetty say her favorite word, knowing it might not be the clean operation they'd hoped for. Too many things could go wrong and as soon as one person fired everyone would open up.

"Moving position," Safa said softly in his ear.

"SEAL team moving," Sam chimed in a second later. "We'll take down Guidry's men before they can fire."

"You boys find somethin' solid ta hide behind if any shootin' does start. You hear me dickwad?" Roy added, but it was Elan's promise that eased his mind.

"Look for me, brothers. I'll get to you."

"Everyone listen up," Hetty ordered. "Bellamy and half his tactical squad are going to try to take Pierce and the others before they reach the meet. The rest of his squad will join up with your SEAL team, Sam. Guidry is your target."

"Hetty? We have a problem," Nell said. "Eric's been monitoring the bugs and cameras at Mouton's house. No one's there. They're gone."

"What the hell you mean they're gone?" Roy shouted.

"Are you sure Mr. Beale?" Hetty asked after shushing Roy. "It's way too early."

"The cameras Roy and Safa installed showed no one leaving, but when Pierce talked with Guidry, the bugs didn't pick up the conversation," Eric said in a rush. "I thought he might have gone outside to talk, but when I got nothing else I enhanced the audio on the bugs and I heard them whispering. Someone must have found our listening devices."

"Rasmussen," Roy said softly.

"They were probably already on site when Pierce talked to Guidry," Sam said.

"Bugger."

Everyone began talking at once after that and Callen was practically chewing his lip off. It was just white noise in his head as the boats slowly made their way up the narrow bayou. He was becoming antsy, but a sharp look and low growl in Cajun from Guidry made him settle down. When they finally passed Mouton's place, his memory of swimming in the clear, clean water of the pool seeming so distant and innocent. It wasn't far to the meeting place now, and no one seemed to know what was going to happen, so he prepared himself. A thick grove of trees was just up ahead and he saw three of the boats veer off behind them and tie up just before the bend in the bayou. The heavily armed militiamen scrambled out and disappeared into the trees. That's when he saw Elan. He spoke a single sentence in Arapaho and then melted into the landscape as if he'd never been there.

The low afternoon sun reflected off the dirty brown water as they rounded the bend and approached a small landing area in the bank. A large rusty crane sat on a barge just beyond and he immediately began searching for any sign of the enemy or of Sam's SEALs. It was eerily quiet except for a scattering of birdcalls and the low rhythmic sound of frogs, which stopped the second they stepped out of the boat. A slight gust of wind whipped up the dirt as Tino hauled the stumbling doctor toward a corrugated quonset hut surrounded by weeds that sat on the far side of the yard. The boom of a weather-beaten crawler crane leaned over the building and they passed several others as they moved between several stacks of rusted iron girders stacked around the seemingly deserted property. A row of large shipping containers faced them, some open and empty, some closed. The whole deserted place made him anxious and he tightened his grip on his gun as they moved forward. Callen caught his eye and he stopped, hanging back with him, as Guidry walked slowly across the open space toward the building. Three armed militiamen spread out on either side and Deeks actually felt glad to have them.

The door of the hut suddenly opened and Pierce walked out, flanked by the two generals who looked less than pleased to be there. The older one was overweight, his chest broad under a full dress uniform clogged with medals, and he wiped at his flushed face with a handkerchief. The other general had to be Rasmussen. He wore a combat utility uniform in desert camo, the four stars on his collar flashing in the sun. He was tall and looked to be in great shape, and Deeks noticed his hands were clinched into fists and he held himself stiffly, almost at attention. Pensky looked bored, but there was no sign of Harrison White, and that wasn't good. If there was one man he wanted to punch in the face, it was White.

"Where's Eliot?" Pierce asked, sounding irritated.

"He in another boat," Guidry said as he grabbed the doctor and shoved him to his knees. "He wid your spy."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Pierce asked.

"Ask that fuckin' little general dere," Guidry spit out. "Called hisself Beau."

"I demand to talk to my man," Rasmussen ordered loudly, making Guidry laugh and poke Tino in the arm.

"He ain't talkin' much no more," Guidry replied, his voice deep and threatening. "Jimmy kill dat bastard. Don't like bein' spied on, Pierce."

The look on Rasmussen's face was thunderous and he took a step forward, but Pierce put out his arm to stop him, and the general shoved it away and glared at him.

"I didn't order this, Guidry," Pierce said easily. "We're partners. I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding."

"Bullshit," Guidry spit into the dust in front of the doctor and pulled his knife. "Eliot spill his guts 'bout ol' Beau, just before I spilled dem all over de ground."

"Are you saying you killed Eliot?" Pierce seemed stunned by the revelation, looking over at Pensky and then the generals.

"Y'all shoulda trusted me, Pierce," Guidry said.

"This can't be tolerated, Newton," General Rasmussen said gruffly.

"I told you it would be dangerous to send Beau in," Pierce said fiercely.

"I didn't hear any complaints when he outed those two federal agents," Rasmussen replied.

His mention of Joe and Oscar made Deeks so angry he unwittingly raised his weapon and heard Roy bark out a warning in his ear. He must be close to have seen that and he licked his lips as he let out a shaky breath.

"Guidry's men are down," Sam said softly and Callen looked his way and froze.

"Armed men at 9 o'clock, boss," Jake Hale said.

"Dem be ours, Jake," Guidry laughed before calmly slitting the doctor's throat and shoving his dead body to the ground.

The next few minutes happened in a noisy rush, the yelling in his ears almost drowned out by the staccato sound of automatic weapons fire. When the militiamen opened up the doors to two shipping containers burst open and men dressed in black charged out into the yard, firing on the militiamen and on Guidry. He screamed Callen's real name when he saw him fall with the two militiamen beside him, blood instantly blossoming on his chest. He tried to reach him, but Guidry grabbed him and shoved him behind a pile of rusty girders as the firefight continued all around them. He heard Sam yelling for Murphy's tactical squad, which suddenly appeared out of the tree line alongside the SEALs, firing as they came. General Greer's body jerked as multiple bullets tracked across his chest, but Rasmussen managed to get Pierce and Pensky back inside the quonset hut, where he continued to fire on the advancing agents. His men were cut down in the crossfire between the tactical squad and militiamen of The Brotherhood.

"Come on, mon fils," Guidry growled as he pulled him toward the bayou. "We live ta fight another day."

"Get your fucking hands off me you sonofabitch," he screamed in his face. "I'm a federal agent, and you're under fucking arrest."

Stunned surprise flashed in Guidry's eyes, but was instantly gone as raw rage engorged his face, suddenly slashing at him with his knife as he grabbed his gun hand. The blade barely missed his belly, slicing open his t-shirt as he swung a fist at the madman's head, connecting solidly with his temple. Guidry went down hard, his head bouncing off the girders and leaving him lying silent in the weeds.

"Elan? G's down," he yelled, rushing back into the middle of the firefight searching for his brother.

He was grabbed around the throat from behind and hauled back next to the track of one of the cranes. He expected to see Elan, but it was Tino's eyes he met.

"Stay down, Jimmy," he ordered. "Jake's gone."

"No..no,no," he whispered, as warm tears streaked through the dirt on his face.

"Where's the boss?" Tino asked as he paused to reload.

Deeks just stared at him and then stood and slammed the butt of his gun down on the man's head. Giving no thought to anything but finding Callen, he turned to search the bodies strewn across the dusty yard.

"I knew you were a goddamn agent," the familiar voice of Harrison White surprising him as the warm muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his skull.

"Fuck you, dickwad," Deeks replied.

"You already did that you little asshole," he said. "Now drop your weapon while I savor the idea of blowing a big fucking hole in your head."

"And here I thought dickwad was reserved just for me, Deeks," Roy drawled behind them. "Got an AR-15 leveled at your spine Mr. White. and I would just love ta fire a short burst ta repay ya for what y'all did ta Oscar Doucet and this boy. So get rid of your little gun and let this here federal agent go find his brother."

Deeks turned to face the man who had viciously interrogated him and enjoyed doing it. White glowered back at him, and when he dropped his gun Deeks hit him as hard as he could, breaking his nose and spewing blood all over the man's crisp white shirt. He nodded at Roy and turned, running into the now silent construction yard screaming Callen's name.

"I got him, Marty," Elan spoke softly into his ear. "He's alive, so take a breath."

"Where are you?" He choked out with relief.

"Just inside the tree line," Elan replied, as he started running.

He saw Sam waiting for him and he slowed to a walk, unable to look him in the eye as he approached.

"How bad?" He asked as Sam put a warm hand on his shoulder.

"The bullet missed his lung. A couple of evac helos are on their way."

"I told him I'd have his back, Sam."

"You had no chance, brother," he replied and walked him under the trees. "We thought we lost you both when the shooting started, and that's on all of us."

He collapsed to his knees beside Callen where he lay in Elan's arms, suddenly so exhausted he was unable to say a word. Callen was barely conscious, but he reached out for him and Deeks took his hand, clasping it tightly and so very grateful for the warmth he felt.

...

...

 _I will be gone most of next week for my anniversary, so I can't promise I will post Chapter 31 next Sunday. It may be a little late, but it will be coming. Thanks for your patience and thanks for reading._


	31. Chapter 31

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 31_

...

He had never been in a real war, and this was as close as he hoped he'd ever have to be. He stared numbly out over the dusty, bone-dry construction yard, a battlefield now eerily still, the bodies of the dead marking their final seconds with blood. The shattering chaos over, he began to hear the muted cries of the wounded, some crawling on hands and knees, others barely on their feet as they searched for any escape from their pain. Callen made no sound as one of the SEALs worked to stop the bleeding, his eyes glassy and his hand going limp as he slipped into unconsciousness. He looked so vulnerable and it was frightening to see him so still, and he tightened his grip on his brother's hand. He was asked to give the medics room to work, but he resisted until Sam pulled him to his feet and walked him to the edge of the trees, his protests weak and ineffective against the big man's determination. He felt the sting of guilt once again as Sam returned to his partner's side, while he stared blindly out at what the end of the day and the mission had wrought.

He found he had no energy and almost no interest in what happened to Pierce and the others holed up in the Quonset hut. He did laugh once when General Rasmussen shouted out his demand to be treated with the respect he deserved as a decorated war hero before agreeing to surrender. Even when the three of them came out and were quickly surrounded by members of the tactical squad, he felt indifferent, simply watching, wanting nothing more to do with them. He had looked away briefly until he heard shouting, turning in time to see Newton Pierce stoop to grab a pistol out of the hand of a dead man. He had a sudden vicious wish that they would shoot him, but the bastard decided to do that himself, quickly shoving the gun up under his chin and pulling the trigger. The echo reverberated out over the bayou, stilling the voices of the living.

"Fucking coward," Harrison White muttered as Roy led him up and turned him over to two SEALs.

The man looked over at him as he leaned against a tree and spit out some of the blood from Deeks' earlier punch. As the man glowered at him he felt a sense of pride for the first time. They had taken these arrogant bastards down and derailed their dangerous plans for the country, finally ending what his brother Joe had started and almost died for.

"You're fucked, asshole," Deeks said wearily. "Enjoy the Congressional hearings."

"I was right, wasn't I?" White asked. "Joe Atwood was your partner taking down that Chinese spy."

"Yeah he was," Deeks replied, seeing no reason not to tell the man.

"At least that sonofabitch is dead," he said with a sneering grin.

"Wrong, you arrogant fuck," Deeks said. "He's the one who'll be living happily ever after while you rot in a federal prison for the rest of your life, if you're lucky. Think the Attorney General might just seek the death penalty for you."

"You're lying about Atwood," White snarled. "I saw the report. He was killed in a shootout with Guidry's men."

"Fooled ya, couyon," he drawled out derisively with all the venom of Jimmy Hale.

"Fuck" the man replied with a scowl. "You and Jake aren't real brothers either are you?"

"Wrong again."

"I saw him go down. He dead?" the man asked with a nasty look of hopefulness.

"No. He's not," Sam boomed as he stepped out of the shadows of the trees.

"Don't tell me. You're not with the DOJ," White said, sighing with resignation.

"Sam Hanna, NCIS, Office of Special Projects."

"You the one running the Hale brothers?" He asked, openly curious.

"That would be Henrietta Lange," Sam replied.

"Shit."

That information silenced him and he dropped his head in defeat as the two SEALs escorted him away.

"You okay Deeks?" Sam said as he laid a big hand on the back of his neck.

He had no idea how to answer that question and simply shrugged his shoulders, feeling incredibly exhausted and uncertain. As he searched his reeling mind for an answer, a man called out Sam's name as he hurried toward them, and he could see he was angry by the tension in his jaw. Sam must have seen it too and turned to face him.

"We can't find Guidry," he reported.

Deeks went cold inside, and pushed away from the tree to rush back to the place he'd left the man, the others silently following. He stared down at the matted weeds and the smear of blood on the edge of one of the girders, his anger deep, and the regret leaving him breathless.

"Dammit! I knocked him out. He was right here," Deeks said, scanning the immediate area even though he knew he was long gone.

"Well you did a piss poor job of securing him," the man said.

"I had to get to my partner," Deeks growled, suddenly feeling remnants of Jimmy Hale. "He was shot."

"You're Deeks, right? You should have waited until you could turn Guidry over to one of my men."

"Fuck you, whatever the hell your name is," Deeks shouted in his face, his alias roaring full force.

If Sam hadn't stepped between them, Deeks wasn't sure he wouldn't have hit the guy.

"Go easy, Murphy," Sam warned. "We wouldn't have taken any of these guys without Deeks and Callen, so cut him some slack."

"I'm the special agent in charge here, Hanna," Murphy replied. "Guidry is still a major threat and I intend to find out why your boy here just let him walk away."

"You think I let him get away on purpose, you pompous asshole?" Deeks shouted, struggling to control his mounting anger.

"Deeks!" Sam voice was sharp as he put a restraining hand on his chest.

"Watch your mouth, Agent Deeks, or I'll have you detained for some serious questioning," Murphy warned.

"You're out of line, Agent Murphy," Morgan Bellamy of the NSD called out as he walked up to join them. "Don't make accusations against this young man trying to cover up for you're own failures. You were a suspect yourself at one time, so stow the unwarranted indignation."

Murphy looked pissed, but he didn't argue and Deeks was grateful, uncertain whether he could have controlled his volatile anger.

"Thank you, sir," Sam said quietly, watching Deeks carefully.

"Agent Deeks. I'm Morgan Bellamy, Deputy Assistant Attorney General, National Security Division. I oversee the Office of Intelligence," he said. "You and your partner have the nation's grateful thanks for what you did during this mission."

"Don't forget to thank Joe Atwood, sir. He deserves it after what he went through," he replied, unwilling to let anyone forget that they had thrown his brother to the wolves.

"I promise you, his service won't be forgotten," the man replied.

"We still need to find Guidry, sir," Murphy asserted.

"I'm going after him," Deeks quietly announced as he checked his weapon.

"You don't have to do that now, Agent Deeks," Bellamy said. "Our tactical squad will find him."

"No they won't," he replied. "He'll lead them into traps that'll get 'em killed."

"I have men who are trained to track. Are you?" Murphy argued, his resentment plain.

"I am," Elan said with a surly attitude that almost made Deeks smile.

"And I know this here swamp," Roy added as he stood stalwartly beside him.

"Who the hell are these guys?" Murphy asked, looking slightly bewildered.

"These men were part of a black ops task force that was set up to do the job you and the others failed to do," Bellamy said coldly. "Now go help with the clean up. You're not needed here."

The official's support surprised Deeks and his smile flickered briefly at the dark look on Murphy's face as he turned to leave.

Bellamy reached out and Deeks shook his hand. "I trust you to finish this, Agent Deeks. Take care of yourselves, gentlemen."

He walked off to the beating sounds of incoming helicopters and Deeks suddenly longed to climb on board one and simply fly away.

"You up for this Deeks?" Sam asked, concern etched on his face. "I can go with Elan and Roy."

"I need to finish this," he finally said softly. "I know him better than anyone here, and you need to take care of G. He needs you now. I don't want him to wake up alone in that hospital room. He'll have questions."

"And he's gonna be pissed when I tell him you went after Guidry," Sam replied.

"He won't be happy, but he'll understand."

"At least take a few of the SEALs with you," he said.

"Just one," he replied. "Need somebody to watch Roy's back. He's old."

"I may be old, smart ass, but y'all just be chasin' your tails without me."

Sam suddenly pulled Deeks into a powerful hug, whispering in his ear to take care, and Deeks felt his heart swell with true brotherhood for the big man. Sam then shook Roy's hand before pulling Elan close and squeezing his shoulder, telling him to watch out for both of them.

"I want all of you back here in one piece," Sam demanded as only he could. "Don't make me have to come rescue your sorry asses."

"I don't think he respects our skills, Cuz," Elan smiled.

"Some Navy SEALs is just full of themselves, boys," Roy said.

"You should know," Elan gibed.

Deeks was anxious to get moving, but Sam froze him with one look as he got on comms to the SEAL team, ordering weapons and ammo and for a man named Alonzo to join him. A solid looking man wearing sunglasses and jungle fatigues with a khaki t-shirt tied tightly around his head came on the run, his chest covered by a tactical vest. A backpack was slung over one shoulder and he carried an AR-15 with a tricked out sight. He looked hard and mean until he caught sight of Roy, then he smiled.

"Hey Ro-B," he said lightly. "Thought you'd be in the old-folks' home by now."

"Damn, Zo. Didn't expect to see your ugly butt again," Roy said as he spit at the man's feet. "Didn't I wash you out for being an asshole?"

"Takes one ta know one, sir," he replied.

When Roy turned to say something to him, Deeks cut him off, uninterested in a long or a short story about how they knew one another.

"This here testy fella is Deeks," Roy said. "And the ugly one with the long hair is Elan Hand, a former Army Ranger. Talks crap in Arapaho when he's pissed, which is quite a bit."

Alonzo turned to face Deeks, his respect obvious as he came almost to full attention. "How long you under with The Brotherhood, sir?"

"I didn't keep a fuckin' journal, asshole," he snapped as he felt Jimmy Hale explode back into his mind. "Guidry has a head start on us, so if you two are done with your little reunion, Let's get on with it."

"Cuz?" Elan stepped in front of him, his eyes searching his. "You don't need that alias anymore. Let it go. You're Marty Deeks, brother. Just be the good man that you are."

In that instant his real name sounded foreign to him, and he shook his head, trying to expel the fog that had closed over his mind. He had been Jimmy Hale for so long he was finding it hard to shake the persona. He stared back at Elan and blew out his breath a couple of times, embarrassed by his actions and divisive words, searching deeply for who he really was. The men who surrounded him stood by patiently as he struggled, and Zo finally handed him a soft plastic pouch of water and the kind gesture help to ease some of the turmoil he was experiencing.

"Sorry for being a dick," he finally said after downing half the man's water.

"Don't need an apology, friend," the man replied. "Just tell me where we're going. I'll make sure Ro-B won't slow us down."

"Respect your elders, wiseass," Roy said, pulling him after Elan as he trotted off toward the bayou.

"Don't get yourself killed, Deeks," Sam said softly as he squeezed his shoulder. "I might just miss you."

"Really?"

"You're my brother too," he replied with a soft smile.

He could offer no words in reply, the big man's affirmation of their connection causing deep emotions that were almost overwhelming. Sam ruffled his hair and then pushed him after the others, but he turned to watch him walk away, wanting more than anything to make the man proud.

When he joined the others, he was surprised to realize that they looked to him as the leader and that was a sobering feeling, but one he was ready for. The boat they'd come in on was still where they'd left it, but the satphone was missing and that was a worry. Elan and Zo tracked Guidry along the edge of the water all the way back to where the militiamen had disembarked. Now there were only two boats, all of them figuring the sound of the outboard motor on the boat he'd taken had been drowned out by the heavy gunfire.

"He'll head for familiar ground, most likely," Roy reasoned.

"Maybe," Deeks said softly. "But he's smart as hell. He knows someone will be coming for him, and he might have already called for backup."

"Weren't all his men here today?" Zo asked.

"Didn't see Prou," Deeks replied, feeling his skin crawl at the thought that crossed his mind. "He's a sniper and an explosive expert. If those two connect..."

"Boobytraps," Elan said softly.

"Not if we get to him before he rendezvous with this Prou guy," Zo offered.

"Might head back to the upper camp," Roy reasoned.

"No," Deeks said quickly. "All the men that were up there came along for the meet, accept Prou and Pea. Not sure why."

"That leaves the main camp on Bayou Chene," Roy said. "Figure that's where Guidry pulled his little surprise backup unit from."

"He'll be expecting an army to come after him so he'll want to have as many men with him as possible," Deeks said quietly.

"Sounds like he has quite an ego," Zo said.

"It's not his ego we'll have to worry about. It's his rage," Deeks said. "I lied to him. He won't forget that."

"You know he'll be lookin' for revenge, kid," Roy warned evenly. "You stay sharp now."

Deeks knew he was right. If Guidry could get to him, he would try and take him alive so he could mete out a proper punishment to satisfy his insatiable rage and savage taste for blood. That need might make him reckless, and if it did, he intended to take advantage of it, if he got the chance.

"What's the fastest route to the main camp?" Elan asked as they all piled in one of the boats.

"Port Allen Lock," Roy said as he swung the boat around and opened the throttle. "Might be able ta cut him off before he reaches it. Know a shortcut the Doucets showed me once. We can lie in wait for the bastard."

"Sam? You still on comms?" Deeks asked.

"I'm here. What do you need?"

"Eric ever get a lock on that satphone Guidry uses?" Deeks asked. "Need his location."

"I will put Mr. Beale on comms with you, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said in his ear. "But before I do...I'm afraid I'm not too pleased with this little excursion of yours. The four of you taking on Guidry and his now desperate army on your own is foolhardy. The man is on the run and we can easily trap him tomorrow with the full force of the military."

"That will just give him time to regroup and prepare," Deeks argued. "Too many men died today, Hetty. Isn't that enough?"

"Are you doing this out of guilt, Mr, Deeks?" she asked.

"I should have shot that sonofabitch when I had the chance," he replied, feeling the weight of it all once again.

"That may well be, Mr. Deeks, but believe me, no one of any consequence faults you for your actions today," she said kindly. "Now that you're out there, please be careful. You know Guidry, but he doesn't really know you. Finding out that he was taken in by a federal agent who he came to care about has to have unsettled him. Use that, Mr. Deeks, and do what you have to do to stay safe."

"I will, Hetty," he replied softly. "Any news on Callen?"

"Not yet, but he's in good hands. Rest assured, we'll take good care of Mr. Callen."

He sought a respite in the suffocating humidity of the late afternoon, but it never came, the high pitched whine of the full throttle engine a fitting accompaniment for his turbulent thoughts. They only had a few hours of daylight left, and he had no desire to go after Guidry in the dark. He began to give in to exhaustion as he listened to Roy's now familiar drawl behind him as he filled Zo in on the violent proclivities of The Brotherhood and the particular savagery of Antoine Guidry. He turned the action of the day over and over again in his mind, confused by his instant decision not to kill Guidry. His excuse had been finding his brother, but now he wondered if that was all of it. Could the man have gotten to him? He definitely was surprised that Guidry had come to rescue him from Pierce and Harrison White. Had that stayed his hand? Had he somehow succumbed to his offer of a family connection? Guidry did remind him of his father in some small way. Had his past caused him to resist repeating the same terrifying response to his own father's violence?

"Deeks?"

"Yeah Eric?"

"I managed to get a GPS signal from Guidry's satphone," the tech said in a rush. "He's not going anywhere near the main camp or the upper camp."

"Then where Eric?" He asked, jerking upright.

"You're not gonna believe this, but he just entered a waterway called Blue Bayou."

"Seriously? I'm not in the mood for jokes, man," Deeks snapped back.

"Believe it, kid," Roy said with a smile. "It's real, all right, but it ain't nothin' like the song Roy Orbison sang."

"Linda Ronstadt's version is better," Eric replied.

"Any other time, boy, I'd give ya an argument, but not today," Roy said gently.

"Sorry."

"Some of Doc Mouton's stripper wells are in that area if I remember Joe's map correctly," Roy continued.

"Does Guidry have men up there maybe?" Zo asked.

"I guess it's possible," Deeks said. "Never heard him talk about it."

"Maybe it's home ground," Elan suggested.

"Or maybe he really is running," Zo added. "Place might give him access to a vehicle."

"Guess we'll just have to go find out," Roy said. "How far ahead of us is he, Eric?"

"A little over eight miles from your position at the moment," he replied.

"How's he know that?" Zo asked, looking surprised.

"Trackin' spray, brother," Roy laughed. "And a lot of it. Sam sprayed it all over Deeks here for like ten minutes. Thought the kid was gonna pass out from the fumes. Safa must be back at my place feedin' him our location. I'm startin' ta like that little lady."

"Watch what you call me, old man," Safa said over comms. "It's Agent Jordan to you."

"What you pissed about?" He asked.

"You should have taken me along," she replied. "He killed one of my agents."

"Right now you're more valuable where you are," Deeks told her. "Coordinate with Eric and as soon as Guidry stops we need to know. I don't want to give him time to set up an ambush."

"He can't know we're on his tail," Zo said.

"He won't take a chance that we're not," Deeks replied. "He provided guards for Mouton's operation. If there are militiamen there, he'll make sure they're watching."

Blue Bayou was narrow, snaking and winding its way under a low canopy of trees that arched overhead. Yellow-green algae clogged the eerie waterway adding to the stench of the rotting dead trees along its bank. They occasionally saw gators floating half hidden in the reeds and Roy gave them as wide a berth as possible. When they startled a heron coming around a bend, the gray bird's wide wings beat softly as it flew right over them, making Zo laugh quietly. The man seemed to enjoy the trip, but the claustrophobic feel was all too familiar to Deeks, and flashes of Saint's death were never far from his mind. He wanted this over with, and the longer the pursuit took the more he felt himself sinking back into his alias. It was a place he didn't want to be, even though it had kept him alive for all those long days. He wanted Guidry to see who he really was, to acknowledge he'd been fooled, even though he knew the man's anger would be explosive if they ever came face to face. He needed to bring him in, for Joe and for Oscar Doucet, but he knew it wouldn't be easy and was likely to be impossible. Guidry wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Marty," Elan alerted him softly, nodding toward an upcoming pile of dead trees, ghostly pale in the shadowy light. "Could be a sniper blind."

As he looked back toward the others, Zo slid silently over the side of the boat and disappeared into the water. Roy cut the engine and they drifted sideways until bumping solidly against the bank to wait. He saw the top of the SEAL's head once and after that only a few barely discernible ripples as the man swam toward his prey. They could barely see the pale trees from their position and if there was someone there they couldn't afford a gun battle with Guidry this close.

"It's over," Elan whispered as they saw Zo give a thumbs up.

Roy started the engine, keeping the throttle barely open and the boat slowly moved along the bank. Elan went over the side as soon as they got close and helped Zo pull the body of the dead man into the bayou. It wouldn't be there for long as a couple of gators slipped quietly off the far bank.

"Got the guy's cheap ass radio," Zo said as he tossed it to Roy. "Might come in handy for finding out what they're up to."

"Lucky for us, Roy speaks Cajun," Elan said with a quick smile.

"Eric? How close are we?" Deeks asked.

"He stopped moving about ten minutes ago," Eric replied. "Hetty got us top priority for a satellite flyover. Should be in position in about five minutes. I should be able to give you some idea how many men you're dealing with... unless they're all inside a building or something..."

"No infrared?" Roy asked.

"I'll see what I can do, Major Tom," Eric replied.

"That the kid that walked you out of that blown op?" Zo asked.

"One and the same, buddy," he replied. "Now, how many think this here dead guy heard us comin' and alerted Guidry?"

"We'll go the rest of the way on foot," Deeks said.

"There must be a trail," Elan said. "No boat here."

He started searching for it before he even stopped talking and Zo followed quickly after Roy tossed him his gear. The undergrowth was almost as thick as the mosquitos, but they pushed through on a narrow muddy track that wound between a mixture of sycamore, hackberry and sweetgum trees. When the radio suddenly crackled, they stopped, kneeling beside the thick tree trunks for cover. They watched as Roy listened, his expression giving nothing away until he smiled and said something in Cajun and then switched off the radio.

"Told 'em the boat they heard was just a couple of poachers," Roy said. "They gonna be real surprised when we show up."

"Maybe," Deeks said, unconvinced there weren't more scouts out and about.

They moved as silently as they could, the forest becoming more dense and closing in around them. Zo was covering the rear now and Elan led the way, ranging far ahead to try and relocate the path that had disappeared in the tangled undergrowth. Deeks froze for one brief second when he heard him cry out, but then charged recklessly through the bush, fear pushing him forward on the run. The sounds of the fight were desperate grunts and harsh gasps and when he finally caught sight of him Elan was on the ground being pummeled by two militiamen. Deeks roared out in anger and crashed full speed into the man about to slam the butt end of a rifle down on his brother's head. He drove the man to the ground, cursing as he hit him again and again until he went limp. He turned quickly to see Elan standing over the other man, his knife and forearm streaked with blood.

"Elan? You hurt bad?" Deeks choked out.

"His blood. Not mine," he replied, breathing heavily but smiling. "Thanks for taking on the big one, brother."

"You two all right?" Roy asked as he rushed up to them.

"Nice Ka-bar," Zo said, moving quickly to toss aside the dead men's weapons. "Serrated?"

Elan shook his head no and leaned heavily against the nearest tree to catch his breath. "You know either one of these guys, Cuz?"

"The one you killed. Name was Silas," Deeks said as he knelt beside the young man's body. "His mama made boudin for the camp. He was one of the nice ones."

"Not anymore," Zo said evenly. "What about the big guy? He's still breathing."

"Tie 'im up and gag him," Deeks ordered softly as he continued to stare at the man who had kindly brought them a plate of cold chicken their first day in camp.

"You sure?" The SEAL asked.

"Yeah, dickwad, I'm sure," Deeks said coldly as he stood to confront the man. "You got a problem with that?"

"No sir," he replied. "Just wondering if you might have been with them a little too long. Maybe got too close?"

"Is that what you think?" Deeks asked barely above a whisper. "You think I don't know what side I'm on?"

Deeks felt the first quiver of raw rage as he took a step toward the man. Elan took his arm and Roy put a hand on Zo's chest as the two men tried to stare down one another. He was sorry that Silas was dead, but no one had the right to question his loyalty, especially someone from the outside who had no idea what he had gone through. That's what they'd done to Joe and now he knew exactly how his brother felt.

"You can think whatever you want about me, but I'm going after Guidry," Deeks said as he pushed past the man. "You can come or you can go. I really don't give a flyin' fuck."

He didn't wait to see what they did with the living militiaman, his mind now focused on ending this operation and bringing Guidry to ground. Elan caught up with him and slapped him on the back as he passed by looking for the trail. His presence calmed him and his anger began to subside.

"Deeks?" Eric's voice broke through his thoughts and he stopped. "Satellite shows it's a storage facility, and I'm gonna take a wild guess and say it's for petroleum. There are several vehicles and a road that connects to a state highway and eventually the interstate. There are a couple of men near the first of five storage tanks, six men surrounding the first building on the southeast corner, and infrared shows three men inside. Oh yeah, and there's a lookout up on the oil derrick. There is tree cover close to the road and a small building to the west of that, but that whole place is pretty much surrounded by a swamp."

"Thanks, buddy," Deeks said as Roy and Zo joined him.

"You get that, Roy?" He asked. "Fill in your friend."

"The asshat here is now on comms," Roy said.

The SEAL stared at him as he attached a suppressor to the barrel of his AR-15, but he couldn't read his expression behind the black wraparound sunglasses. Elan finally stepped up to the man and hissed out something in Arapaho before shoving him in the chest. It was an unmistakable challenge that they didn't need right now, but the man raised his hands to show he wanted no fight.

"I think Elan wants you to know how much he appreciates your badass attitude," Deeks said with a flickering grin as he laid a hand on his brother's arm.

"I was out of line, sir," Zo said.

"Call me Deeks. Roy is the only 'sir' here," he replied.

"He is old and decrepit ain't he?" Zo smiled.

"But charming as hell," Deeks replied.

"Y'all got no respect for experience," Roy grumbled. "Let's do this, dickwads."

"I'm gonna take that as a term of endearment, sir," Zo said. "I'll take out the sentry on your command, Deeks."

Their differences settled, they moved out toward their objective, and Deeks finally felt the last vestiges of his alias fade. Zo's questioning had made him defend who he really was and his thoughts turned to his brother Joe. Guidry had hunted him relentlessly and made him suffer in this forbidding landscape, and now he was about to turn the tables on him. He wanted the sick bastard to know that Joe had survived, that he had overcome every attempt to bring him to ground and had come out on the other side and was now home with his family. Getting close enough to do that was dangerous, but to see the look on Guidry's face might just be worth the risk.

They held up just inside the tree line beside the small, corrugated out building Eric had mentioned. Zo used it for cover, snugging himself up against the corner as he checked out the sentry on top of the derrick through his scope. The metallic sound of a chain hitting metal made them turn to see the black barrel of an assault rifle poke out from the half opened door and aim at Zo's back. Deeks felt the movement of air as Elan's knife flew past his head and buried itself in the militiaman's chest. His death was almost instant, but not instant enough to stop the burst he got off as he fell, the bullets clipping the tree branches above their heads.

Zo hadn't moved and the next thing they heard was the muted sound of the shot he immediately took to take out the sentry. No one had time to acknowledge the action, forced to hit the ground as the guards opened up on them from across the road. The militiamen had no cover and three of them fell as they returned fire, followed by two more as Zo methodically fired. The small building suddenly exploded, blowing Zo sideways and raining fiery debris down on top of all of them.

"Move, move, move," Elan shouted as he grabbed Zo's tactical vest and pulled him out from under a piece of corrugated siding, dragging him beneath the trees.

Roy had continued to fire, covering them as they scrambled away from what was left of the building. Deeks shouted for him to follow as he laid down bursts of cover fire, until he finally noticed Roy's left pant leg was on fire. He yelled for Elan to cover him as he rushed back to help, sliding down beside him and scooping handfuls of dirt over the flames, patting them out before helping him back to the trees. The old Cajun never made a sound until he saw Zo.

"Is he dead?" He asked breathlessly.

"Not yet, Ro-B," Zo croaked out. "Deeks? You and Elan need to spread out. Don't think I can walk, and it looks like Roy won't get far on that leg, but we can cover you from here."

Elan immediately patted the tough man's shoulder and moved off toward the right and closer to the road. The remaining militiamen had taken cover, their firing relentless and Deeks was glad to have the solid trunk of a big oak to hide behind. The sudden revving of an engine caught his attention and he chanced a peek.

"It's Prou. Guidry's driving," he shouted over the gunfire as the truck roared up a dirt road along the upper bayou. "Elan? Do you have a shot?"

His answer came when the truck swerved and went off the road, disappearing into the trees along the bayou. He was up and running as soon as he saw the tire of the truck blow, catching sight of Elan as he made his way toward the crash.

"Watch yourself Elan," Deeks warned over comms. "Prou is a sniper. Guidry is mine."

His brother's reply in Arapaho made him smile briefly, but he held his breath as he saw him move low and fast across the narrow dirt road. Elan slid down an embankment and looked back for him, motioning him forward. The truck was nowhere to be seen as he crossed to the other side. When he got to his position, Elan had already moved, following the skid marks and broken bushes down toward the water.

"Truck's empty. No blood," Elan whispered in his ear. "They split up."

When he reached him he was kneeling beside the brackish water of the bayou. The light was dim in the dense undergrowth surrounding them, but he pointed out the two sets of footprints, one going south and the other north, deeper into the swamp beyond. Using hand signals he let Elan know he was going to follow the footprints heading north, instinctively knowing that's where Guidry would go. The swamp held no fear from him. It was his home ground and Deeks shivered in spite of the still, muggy air. Elan nodded, staring into his eyes for a long time before squeezing his shoulder and turning south.

The tracks moved in and out of the water as Guidry tried to cover his trail, but he managed to follow. He could still hear the distant sound of gunfire, as he struggled through the dense vegetation and dead tree limbs along the bank. But as the bayou twisted around a fallen tree, he heard no frogs or crickets, and even the birds had stopped their chatter and he paused, suddenly wary. The sudden muted report of a rifle distracted him, fear for Elan his only thought.

Guidry burst from the undergrowth behind him, tackling him into the black water, and he cursed as his gun slipped from his hands as he went under. He fought to get his feet under him in the slippery mud, as the hulking Cajun got an arm around his throat. He clawed at his arm, but he was sliding toward unconsciousness, and in one last-ditch effort he managed to pull his knife, jamming it down hard into Guidry's leg. They broke the surface as one, the Cajun screaming out curses in two languages as Deeks pushed the man's arm away. As he turned to face him, Guidry swung a fist at his head, knocking him back under and leaving him groggy. He was suddenly yanked up and out of the murky bayou and dragged up on the bank where he coughed putrid water into the mud. Guidry stood over him, his own knife in his hand.

"Always said you was a tough sonofabitch, Jimmy," he said, heaving in great breaths of air. "You a goddamn liar, but you brave, couyon."

"Pierce is dead," he told him as he leaned over on his elbow and spit out the foul taste in his mouth.

"You shoot 'im?"

"Shot himself."

"Figured dat rat bastard was a fuckin' coward."

"They're all in custody, Guidry. Or dead," he said wearily. "It's over. There is no more Brotherhood."

"Jake dead?" He asked, ignoring his comment and looking honestly curious.

"No. Neither is the federal agent you thought we killed."

"Phil? He alive? Sonofabitch," he laughed. "You two boys is good. What dat couyon's real name, boy?"

"Joe Atwood. He's my brother," he replied quietly. "That's why Jake and I came."

"Y'all are brothers?"

"Yeah, we are, boss," he said with a cocky grin. "We got our own brotherhood."

"Should gut ya, mon fils," he said quietly, but there was no hint of rage in his voice.

"I won't go easy," he replied and struggled to his feet. "And there are a lot more men on the way, so why don't you just surrender?"

He laughed at that, in that odd cackle he had, but he shook his head as he did. "Cain't do dat, mon fils. Don't like bein' locked up. Dis here my home. Dis swamp all I ever know."

"Then I guess you're just gonna have to try and kill me," Deeks replied as he straightened up to face him.

"You save my life, boy," he said as he held the knife blade up to catch the fading light. "Cain't seem ta forget dat. Don't know why ya do dat, but ya did and so I gonna let ya keep yours. We even now, mon fils."

He was stunned by his words and wasn't quite sure what the man would do next, or what he should do either.

"Go on now, Jimmy Hale. Walk away."

"My name is Marty Deeks," he replied.

"Naw, mon fils. You always be Jimmy Hale ta me," he replied as he stepped back down into the muddy bayou. "I bleedin' good now, boy. Let de gators take me. Dis here be my home. Dis where I need ta be when I die. You and Jake take care now, mon fils."

He sliced the blade of the knife across his chest and as the blood flowed freely he spread his arms and lay back in the black waters of the bayou. Deeks didn't move as the water turned red, keeping watch as he floated unmoving. He was startled, but unsurprised when he heard the soft splash of a gator as it entered the water just upstream. He heard the hiss of another as he turned away and began his trek back, unable to watch the madman's final minutes. The sound of the gators thrashing in the water followed him, but he heard no screams from Antoine Guidry.

...

...

TBC


	32. Chapter 32

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 32_

...

The sound was far off, but held no interest for him as he stumbled along the edge of the bayou in search of his brother Elan. Finding him was his only immediate concern on this fucked up day. He was so very tired, his mind in a fog now that his adrenaline had faded away. He was sick of the smell of algae and death, sick of the deadening heat, the clinging humidity and the questions that hovered unanswered in the dullness of his mind.

The sudden swoosh and dark running shadow of a low flying helicopter startled him, the whirring blades loud and incessant, violently ruffling the trees overhead and making him curse at the interruption. He wasn't surprised that Hetty had sent backup, wasn't angry either. Maybe being lifted up into the darkening orange sky would help him escape his thoughts, and remind him there was another world beyond the one he had been mired in for the last few weeks. He just needed to find Elan.

"You okay, Cuz?" His brother asked as he stepped out from behind a tree, dripping wet.

"Sort of. You?" He staggered with relief as he looked him over for injuries.

"Can we go home now?"

The intonation made him smile. He sounded just like his son.

"You get Prou?"

"Tried to shoot me. Didn't work out for him," he said with a weary shrug. "Guidry?"

"Fed himself to the gators."

"Seems right," Elan said after a pause.

As soon as they walked out of the trees a steel gray helicopter swooped over them and hovered above the dirt road. Long ropes immediately dropped and four armed men in black slid down and began yelling at them to get on the ground. When Deeks didn't immediately obey, two of them rushed him. While one pointed an assault rifle at his chest, the other kicked his legs out from under him and shoved him facedown in the dirt, grinding a knee into the small of his back. Elan shouted something in Arapaho before they did the same to him. He was too exhausted to fight them, but Elan did and was knocked unconscious for it. He screamed curses, but his anger at their treatment wasn't enough to stir the energy to resist. He was just too damn tired.

"Get the fuck off him," a woman yelled out, cutting through the noise and making him open his eyes. "Didn't you read the intel, or are you just dumb, blind and stupid? This is one of the men we came to rescue, you idiot."

The man got up off of him, mumbling an apology before the woman shoved him away.

"Sorry Deeks. Some people don't read the memos," Safa said, reaching down to help him up.

"Didn't need to be rescued until you people got here," he said as he headed to where Elan lay.

"Hetty sent us in for exfil," she said as he knelt down beside his brother. "Found Alonzo and Roy. Told us you two went after Guidry. These testosterone junkies didn't get that intel."

He dug the earwig out of his ear and angrily tossed it away. "We both went into the bayou. Now get your fucking men away from us."

"Sorry man," one of the tactical squad offered. "Couldn't be sure you two weren't part of the militia."

"You could have asked our names, dickwad," Deeks growled sharply as Elan began to stir. "Just a warning. Don't be here when he wakes up. We ain't in the best of moods right now."

"You back to being Jimmy Hale again?" Elan mumbled as he pushed himself up onto one elbow and pressed a hand to the back of his head.

"He wouldn't have put up with this shit, that's for sure," Deeks replied. "Can you walk?"

"Worth a shot," he replied as Deeks pulled him to his feet.

"Please accept my apology, Elan," Safa said, her voice still touched with the anger she had shown earlier.

Neither one of them replied, they simply started walking back to where they'd left Roy and Zo. Deeks began to disassociate himself from everything happening around them. Pave Hawk helicopters flew back and forth over the grounds of the storage facility and there were others on the ground. Tactical squads were searching the buildings and perimeter, tending to the dead and rounding up what remained of The Brotherhood. The mission was over for him and for Elan. He would be debriefed, but he would insist that happen tomorrow, because tonight he was going to go see Callen, take the hottest shower he could stand, and then sleep in a clean, soft bed in whatever hotel they stuck him in.

"Agent Deeks?"

He stopped and turned toward the man shouting his name, so exhausted he stumbled into Elan. He was surprised the man was dressed in a suit, but became instantly pissed when he saw Special Agent Murphy of Homeland Security walking beside him.

"What the hell do you want," he asked without energy.

"Agent Deeks, I'm Terrance Rigby, head of the Joint Terrorism Task Force," the man replied with a slight smile.

"Sorry sir," Deeks said, clawing his damp, dirty hair out of his eyes and standing up a little straighter.

"I think I'm the one who should apologize to you," the man said. "Saw some of the more enthusiastic men on the tactical squad roughed you and Mr. Hand up a bit. That shouldn't have happened."

"Elan's head is pretty hard, sir, and I'm getting used to being knocked around on this assignment," Deeks said. "What can I do for you?"

"Did you find Guidry?"

"Yes sir. He died back there in the bayou," he replied. "Won't find his body though. The gators got him."

"Didn't you try to stop them?" Murphy blurted out.

"Seriously?" Deeks asked wearily. "You don't get out much do you?"

"The bayou's right over there," Elan said, irritated and gruff. "Full of gators and mosquitos. Go take a walk and see which one bites you first."

"We'll take his word for it, Murphy," Rigby said, shaking his head in amusement. "Now, gentlemen, I'd like to offer you a ride back to New Orleans. Blanchard and Alonzo are on a medevac flight there for medical attention and I've been informed that Agent Callen is out of surgery and doing well. Hetty thought you might like to see that for yourselves."

Deeks blinked slowly as his words sunk in. It really was all over, and his eyes watered as Elan threw an arm across his shoulders.

"Zo and Roy gonna be okay?" Elan asked.

"Roy was a little difficult to deal with as usual, but he'll be fine," he replied. "Sergeant Alonzo sustained some serious injuries, but he was conscious and talking when they loaded him on the transport."

"Thank you, sir," Deeks said, appreciating the information and the man's kind tone.

"Let's get you two on board my chopper," he said. "You look dead on your feet."

As they headed toward the waiting helicopter, he began to shake with fatigue and Elan let his arm slip down around him, and he leaned into his solid body, grateful for the support. Even though his mind was muddled, his thoughts turned to Joe, and he felt a deep longing to talk to him and assure him that his brothers were safe and coming home to the ranch. Once they were strapped in and on comms, the pilot gave a thumbs up, and the helo lifted off, rising into the deep indigo sky, leaving the harsh reality of the swamp and The Brotherhood behind as if it never existed. The dark forbidding expanse of the swamp spread out beneath them, and it looked as if it went on forever. He choked on the bitter bile that rose in his throat as the haunting images of Guidry's death crowded into his mind. The man could have killed him, but had let him live and that was a mystery to him, one much bigger than the endless swamp below him. He stared out at the ribbon of orange on the far horizon, struggling to make sense of the madman's reasoning, but he wasn't sure he would ever truly understand.

...

"Is he still sleeping, Mr. Hanna?" the familiar voice dragging him out of his dark dreams. "Did they sedate him?"

"They wanted to give him something, but he threatened to kick their ass if they tried," Sam replied. "Told them he'd already been drugged by one doctor and didn't intend to let another one stick a needle in him."

"Did he take anything for the pain?" Hetty asked.

"One of the doctors injected something into his IV line."

"Never asked for that," Deeks murmured sleepily, his eyes still closed. "Never asked to be admitted either."

"No, Mr. Deeks. They were following my orders," Hetty said, gently patting his arm and startling him awake.

"Hetty? Thought I was still on comms," He said, pushing himself upright and rubbing at his eyes. "When did you get here?"

"I grabbed a seat on a flight out of Coronado this morning that was headed for Belle Chasse," she replied. "I wanted to check on you and Mr. Callen personally."

"How long have I been here?" He asked, noting that it was dark outside.

"They checked you in around ten last night," Sam said with a wide grin.

"Sam alerted me to how exhausted you were, Mr. Deeks, and after speaking on the phone with one of the ER doctors, I decided a night in the hospital would be a good idea."

"Traitor," he grumped to Sam.

"Elan told me he had trouble waking you up when the helo landed," Sam explained as if talking to a small child. "I was just looking out for you."

"This wasn't necessary," he replied, waving his arm to indicate his surroundings. "I just wanted to talk to Callen and find a hotel room."

"You failed to mention that a couple of your cracked ribs had turned into broken ones," Hetty scolded. "The doctor was concerned with all the bruising as well, and you were obviously quite exhausted since you not only slept through the night, but through the day as well."

Deeks shook his head and started pulling out the IV, and the other monitoring devices attached to him before either one could stop him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sam boomed out.

"Where's Elan?"

"With G," Sam finally said quietly, shaking his head as Deeks shoved the side rail down and swung his legs over the side.

"Unless you want a glimpse of my naked ass, Hetty, I suggest you leave and let me get dressed."

"And unless you stop being a pain in the ass, I'm not givin' you your clothes," Sam warned.

"I'm sure I can convince the nurses to give me a robe," He said with a small grin, resolutely crossing his arms over his chest. "Come on, Sam. What room's he in?"

"You two probably are real brothers separated at birth," Sam said, irritated but resigned that Deeks wasn't going to listen to him. "You're both hard headed and stubborn as a damn mule."

"I just need to see him, Sam."

"That's just what he said a few hours ago," he replied. "That's why Elan is with him. To keep him from getting out of bed and hurting himself in the process, not to mention flashing everybody trying to find you."

"I'm fine, Sam," Deeks said. "Just let me go...please, brother."

"There's a go-bag under the bed, Mr. Deeks," Hetty said. "I'll see you in Mr. Callen's room."

When she was gone, Deeks eased himself back down on the edge of the bed to steady himself, while Sam fished out his stuff. His body felt like one big bruise, and he couldn't seem to keep from yawning.

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"You both are eventually," he replied. "Elan said you had a rough night. Had a few nightmares, but ever woke up. Hetty kept the investigators from the DOJ away all day and they weren't too happy about it. She told them you needed your rest and that she would be doing your debrief when you were up for it."

He nodded without comment and pulled out a fresh pair of jeans, an old LAPD t-shirt and a pair of flip-flops. He tousled his hair into place, realizing it was clean, but he didn't remember how.

"Did I shower last night?"

"Not surprised you don't remember. You were pretty out of it once they got you to your room."

It felt good to have on clean clothes, but he could still smell the ghostly stench of the swamp, and it gave him a chill. Maybe he was just imagining it, but wisps of evaporating dreams still lingered, disturbing and dark. He stood up quickly and reached for Sam, needing something solid and real to hold onto.

"I got you," the big man said, his warm hand gripping his arm and holding him in place. "It's not far."

There were two federal agents stationed outside the door to his room, and he looked quickly at Sam, worried that they had missed someone in the raid.

"They're Hetty's," Sam laughed. "Your guest list is limited to her and a very short list of approved visitors. Thought Colin Murphy was gonna have a stroke when he wasn't allowed to question you."

There were more agents stationed outside of Callen's room, but the door was open and he could see Callen watching him with a critical eye as he walked in.

"You look like shit," Callen said, his expression intense.

Deeks stopped abruptly and looked away and then down at the floor, afraid he was angry with him, not that he would blame him.

"Deeks? You got 'im didn't you?" Callen asked softly, sounding uncertain.

"Yeah...sort of," he replied, still maintaining his distance.

"Tell me," he whispered gently and Deeks looked at him for the first time. "Did he hurt you?"

"No...no. He...he let me live," Deeks managed to choke out. "I don't know why...and then he sliced a cut across his chest with my knife and just laid down in the water. He let the gators take him, G. Didn't scream...nothing...not one sound..."

Deeks turned to walk away, tears coming for some reason he didn't understand. Sam stepped in front of him and Elan stepped up behind, tightly gripping his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Callen asked. "Are you mad at me cause I got myself shot and wasn't there?"

"What?" Deeks turned to look at him in shock that he thought that. "I was supposed to have your back and I didn't."

"Being a little hard on yourself don't you think?" He replied. "None of us knew Rasmussen had his second guard unit already in position. There was nothing you could have done. I was just slow to react and it almost got me killed. That's not on you, brother."

"When you went down..." He started. "It scared the shit out of me."

"Me too," Callen smirked. "Hurt like hell too."

Deeks finally move to the side of the bed and Callen reached out for him, grabbing his hand and pulling him as close as he could.

"They wouldn't let me come see you, kid," he said.

"Had to pull a knife on 'im to keep him in bed," Elan said.

"Scared one of the nurses so bad she transferred off the floor," Callen reported with a soft grin.

"I think the hospital will be more than pleased when we're all off the premises," Hetty remarked.

"When can we leave, Hetty?" Deeks asked. "I need to see Joe."

"I have a private jet standing by to take you to Wyoming after your debrief," she replied. "Mr. Callen's departure will have to wait until the doctors are willing to release him. Your family knows you are all okay. They'll be waiting."

"You have a private jet now, Hetty?" Sam laughed.

"Yes. It used to belong to Newton Pierce. I simply confiscated it for use by our task force," she replied smugly. "It's quite well appointed and comfortable."

"I'll bet it is," Deeks said quietly.

"Thought y'all woulda busted out the single malt scotch by now," Roy drawled out as he entered, leaning heavily on a cane. "Should be celebratin'. Got all those bastards 'cept one."

Deeks was happy to see Roy, but was shaken by his last comment and began mentally running through a list of the members of The Brotherhood and Pierce's group. "Who got away?"

"Jacqueline Bennett," Hetty said sourly. "She has proven to be quite resourceful, but we'll run her to ground."

"Who you got doin' that?" Roy asked.

"Nell is working closely with Safa Jordan," she replied. "Ms. Bennett won't be able to stay hidden for long. They'll find her."

"No question about that," Sam laughed. "You need a file on that woman, Hetty."

"I already have one, Mr. Hanna."

"Promised you some of my gumbo, boy, when this was all over," Roy said as he limped to Deeks' side. "The Doucets are sneakin' it in as we speak. More'n enough for all of us."

"And I brought the scotch," Hetty said, pulling a bottle out of a shopping bag by her feet. "You gentlemen have earned it."

Plastic cups were passed around and filled with scotch, their smiles slowly fading as Roy lifted his for a toast.

"To Oscar Doucet," he said solemnly.

"And to Joe Atwood," Deeks added.

"To Jimmy Hale...may he rest in peace," Callen offered, smiling softly at Deeks.

"And to his big brother Jake," Deeks said quietly. "The toughest sonofabitch in the swamp. Thanks for having my back, brother."

"To true brotherhood," Sam boomed out as Gus Doucet and several of his brothers crowded in carrying a huge pot between them.

The spicy smell of the gumbo filled the room, making Deeks' mouth water and his stomach growl, helping him to forget, at least for the moment, the foulness he left behind.

...

...

The Bighorn mountains loomed in the distance as the jet made its approach into Laramie, and he suddenly became excited by the snow on Cloud Peak. He couldn't wait to get off the plane. As comfortable as it was, everything on it reminding him of Pierce and his yacht, his horror-filled night there never far from his mind. Elan had tried to distract him, and so had Callen when he wasn't sleeping, but he'd remained restless during most of the flight.

He'd gone through Hetty's debrief fairly easily, but had grown angry during a second one that the DOJ had insisted upon. Hetty had been barred from that one, the panel of six questioning every decision he and Callen had made while they were undercover, never quite understanding the kind of man Antoine Guidry had been. One of them didn't believe Harrison White would do the kind of things he claimed to have suffered under his hand, berating him until Terrance Rigby burst into the room and slammed a full transcript of White's interrogation on the table, including a medical report on the cocktail of drugs they had pumped into his system. That had silenced a couple of them briefly, until someone asked for clarification on Guidry's death, one member suggesting that they only had his word that the man was dead at all, and that maybe he had become enthralled with the charismatic leader and had simply let Guidry escape with no one the wiser since he was the only witness.

It had taken him a few seconds to digest that accusation, but when he caught his breath he went on a tirade that ended with him suggesting they send a tactical squad to Blue Bayou to hunt down all the gators and cut open their stomachs until they found Guidry's remains, which he also suggested might still be recognizable. It had earned him a stay in a small windowless room with a metal table and chair, four guards dressed in camo fatigues and a visit from a weird little psychiatrist who was sent to discover if he'd gone crazy. He'd had a little fun with that, until the man caught on to his silliness and stormed out. The guards never cracked a smile.

They left him there for so long he thought the DOJ might be considering filing charges against him, so he was relieved when the door opened and he was ushered back into the interrogation room. He ventured a smile when he saw Hetty standing stiffly in front of the two members who had rigorously disputed some of his testimony and questioned his allegiance. She was dressed in a dark blue suit with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, and he swore later to Callen that there was steam coming out of her ears and fire out of her mouth as she read the two of them the riot act. He found himself unable to keep from grinning cockily as she cut them down to her size, but his smile quickly disappeared when the door opened to admit the Attorney General of the United States. That was definitely a surprise. So was the man's announcement that there was no need for further questioning and that he was free to go. Most members of the panel looked dutifully contrite under his intense scrutiny, but a couple seemed slightly pissed when the Attorney General came over to shake his hand and thank him for foiling a serious attempt on his life. The man personally ushered him and Hetty out of the room, and Deeks grinned widely when she used a gesture to indicate the twisting of a knife. That was Elan's favorite part of the story.

"Snow in August?" Callen asked with a wide yawn as the plane descended toward the airport. "Be nice not to wake up drenched in sweat."

"Think they'll be any repercussions from our debriefings?" Deeks asked.

"Yours maybe," he said, looking quite serious. "I was a perfect gentleman. You on the other hand now have a reputation as a troublemaker."

"Seriously? You told me you were drugged up on pain meds the whole time," Deeks said, wondering if he was joking.

"Your point?"

"Do you even remember what you said?"

"That's their job," Callen reasoned. "I just answered yes or no most of the time."

"You don't remember the questions either do you?" Deeks asked, his grin widening.

"Again...not my job," he said with a smart-ass smile. "Now, can we get off the plane?"

He hadn't even realized the plane had stopped taxiing, and suddenly felt elated, jumping up and grabbing both their go-bags while Elan helped Callen up and guided him down the stairs to the tarmac. Deeks stood in the doorway of the small jet just watching, his eyes moving slowly over each one of the people who meant so much to him. Elan picked up Lily and swung her around and then held her close as he pulled his son Soldier to him. His uncle, Jim Littleshield stood behind him, slowly patting him on the back while George wrapped Callen in a gentle hug that he surprisingly didn't resist. He didn't see Diane or little Chris, but Joe was standing just outside the private terminal shielding his eyes from the sun with a new cowboy hat, his hand trembling slightly when he caught his eye.

"You comin' down, son?" George called out.

The gentle tone brought tears to his eyes and he dropped his head, savoring the moment, before slowly walking down the steps to solid ground. The air was warm, but there was a soft breeze blowing, and he took a deep breath, so very thankful to be home. George hugged him as if he might break and the contrast with Guidry struck him hard and he choked back tears.

"It's so good to have you home, son," George said. "Kensi's waitin' at the ranch with Di and Christopher."

"How's Joe?"

"Been pretty quiet," George replied, looking uncertain and worried. "Don't talk about what he went through. Spends a lot of time with the horses. I think he's scared. I know he was for you and for Callen. Maybe things will get better now. He needs you, son."

Deeks nodded absently at the others as he walked resolutely toward his brother, who had stepped back into the shadow of the overhang. He held his hat in front of him with both hands as if to protect himself. Deeks had never seen him this way before, and it shook him. Joe had always been a vibrant and energetic man, with an inner strength that matched his father's. Now he seemed tentative and unsure. When he got closer, he saw that his unshaven face was streaked with tears and he hurried to get to him.

"Hey, brother," he said as he wrapped him in a hug. "I'm safe, Joe. I'm okay. So's Callen."

Joe pulled free of him, holding onto his arms as he stared into his eyes, searching for something, but he had no idea what.

"I may be a basket case, but I can still tell when you're lying," Joe said angrily.

"Did I do something to piss you off, Joe?"

"Just don't try and tell me you're fine," he said, sounding surly and nothing like himself. "I spent a month with that crazy sonofabitch, so don't tell me he didn't get inside your head. And don't tell me he didn't scare the shit out of you or beat it out of you either. I was there, Deeks. I know. So do me a favor, little brother, don't feed me any crap about being fine and dandy, because I know you're not, cause neither am I."

Deeks swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and quickly looked away. He never could hide anything from Joe, but he wasn't ready to talk about Guidry, even to him.

"You drivin'?" Deeks asked. "Need to see Kensi."

"Yeah, sure. Put me off until you're screamin' out nightmares..."

"Hey! Shut the fuck up, couyon," he yelled in his face and Joe hit him.

It wasn't hard, and he was more stunned by what he'd called him, spitting blood out of his mouth along with the nasty taste of his bitter fear. Joe looked stricken by what he'd done and reached out for him, but he stumbled away from him, and ran right into Elan and Callen.

"That's enough from both of you," George said firmly as he walked up to them. "Let's get home. You can tear into each other after supper, if that'll solve anything."

"Come on Uncle Deeks. You can ride with Lily and me," Soldier said, looking worried as he took his arm. "She'll beat everybody back. Kensi can't wait to see you."

He let Soldier lead him away, grateful to the boy for pulling him out of a confrontation he didn't have the energy for.

"He didn't mean it, mon ami," Lily said as he settled into the backseat. "You know that."

"He understands, Marty," Jim Littleshield said gently. "Closing yourself off like he's been doin' don't work. Now that you're all home together you can work things out. The ranch has always been a haven for you. Let it heal what's hurtin'."

He was quiet as he watched the rest of them pile into George's old Ford Explorer and head out. "Doesn't seem to have helped Joe."

"He put off dealing with his own pain waitin' to see if there'd be more," the old Arapaho said. "Don't think he thought you'd survive. Callen either. That kind of fear is tough to live with when you're hurtin' as bad as he is."

The trip was nothing but a blur, until they got close to the ranch. As they roared along Little Jack Creek, he rolled the window down and let the high plains air ruffle through his hair. It felt clean and fresh, and the land was golden with low rolling hills wide open to the sky, the dry grasses waving in the gentle wind, and so very different from where he'd just come from. He was grateful Hetty had given them two weeks off to recover, realizing he desperately needed the time to make things right with Joe and deal with the dark residue left from his relationship with Guidry.

When he first caught sight of the ranch, he let out a long sigh and Uncle Jim laughed softly and slid his big rough hand along his shoulder, giving his neck a gentle squeeze of understanding. The old place never seemed to change. The barn looked a little more weathered, and he noticed some of the fences had recently been mended, but the birches still stood sentinel out in the far pasture and the house remained as welcoming as it always had.

"God, it's good to be here," he whispered, searching for his big bay mare, Sheila among the curious horses that raised their heads as they pulled to a stop in the yard.

He laughed at the barking dogs that surrounded him as he got out of the car, drawn back to the memories of his first time here, when Joe was so badly injured and he was filled with guilt. Here they were again, in the one place that would allow them the space they'd need to overcome what this assignment had done to all of them. The only one missing was Sam, but he had a family of his own and they had been waiting to get him back too. Wading through the baying dogs, he was almost knocked over by his yellow Lab, Boo. The big dog was practically smiling, she was so happy, but he was immediately saddened when he saw Joe break away and head out to the barn. He would have followed if Kensi hadn't come out onto the porch and hobbled down the steps on her crutches, her smile wide and her eyes shimmering with barely held tears.

His love for her hit him in a rush, the emotion rolling over him like the waves of the ocean, so overpowering that he was stunned into silence, unable to move. He'd forced himself to keep her out of his thoughts for so long, and he'd succeeded most of the time. Now she stood right in front of him, so beautiful and so real, no longer a dream that came to him in a troubled sleep.

"Hey," she said, dropping one crutch to lay her hand on his chest.

Her touch was electric, sparking the beat of his heart into a headlong race that left him breathless. He stared at her smile, her expression so bright that he couldn't help but compare it to the darkness he'd been living with. There was a purity of spirit about her, an honesty that he'd forgotten somehow while living another man's life. Just being close to her made him feel cleaner, helping him to distance himself from the foul-mouthed thug he'd been for too long.

"God, I've missed you," he whispered. "I didn't know how much until right now."

She didn't say anything as her tears fell, just looked longingly into his eyes as she brushed his tangled hair back and cupped his cheek, kissing him softly as she leaned into him. His first touch was tentative, wanting to be so very gentle with her, to be the opposite of Jimmy Hale, to find some way to be himself again. When she dropped the other crutch, he wrapped her in a tighter embrace, holding her weight so she wouldn't hurt herself. They clung to one another in silence as dogs and family moved around them, leaving them be, locked in their own world of comfort. When they eased away from each other they were alone and he finally smiled and kissed her.

"You look so tired...and skinny," she said. "Diane's making spaghetti for dinner, and Kate Lovejoy is bringing over some sourdough bread and a rhubarb pie for dessert."

"As long as it ain't grits, Sunshine, I'll eat whatever you put in front of me," he laughed.

The soft whinny of a horse made him look toward the barn to see Joe lead a dark sorrel out and mount up. He turned the animal toward the creek and kicked it into a gallop, pushing it into a hard run that made Deeks want to follow.

"He got worse when he found out you and Callen were in the hospital," Kensi said. "He's really scaring Diane. George too."

"I have to go after him, Kens," he said. "Can you tell Elan? Between the two of us, we might be able to find out what's really bothering the idiot."

He picked up her crutches and was guiding her up the steps when Elan came out with Callen right behind him.

"Joe took off," Deeks said quickly as he turned and jumped off the porch. "Is Sheila in the barn?"

"I'm coming too," Callen shouted after them as they trotted to the gate.

"That's not a good idea, Cuz," Elan said, stopping to confront him. "You just got shot four days ago. Forget your arm is still in a sling?"

"Are you saying you think I'll fall off?" Callen asked with no hint of a smile or a smirk.

"He's saying we don't want you to hurt yourself, dumbass," Deeks explained.

"Then saddle a horse for me and help me up," he said as he walked past them out across the pasture. "I'll just sit up there and let the horse do all the work."

"Okay, but if you fall off, I'm not stopping to pick you up," Deeks warned.

"Liar."

"He knows you too well, Marty," Elan said, slapping him on the back as they walked into the barn.

Sheila began kicking the door to her stall as soon as she saw him, the familiar behavior making him smile and feel at home. Elan quickly saddled his black, and then saddled a solid looking Appaloosa for Callen. They were out and onto Joe's trail in less than ten minutes. Elan raced ahead, and Deeks realized they all knew exactly where Joe was going. He saw him splash full speed across the creek and disappear into the willows on the other side, only to reappear and pull up Crow to wait for them. Deeks turned to check on Callen, but he didn't appear to be in distress as they approached the slow moving creek, but he watched him carefully as he urged his horse into the water.

"He's headed to my cabin," Elan said as he led them through the willows and onto a well-worn trail that meandered up into the low hills beyond the creek.

The land was beautiful, the hills rising gently until they overlooked the ranch below. George had deeded fifty acres over to Elan so he and Soldier could have their own place, and Deeks and Callen had helped put the finishing touches on the cabin during their long weekend here just before the op. After passing a stand of spruce, the trail wound past a towering outcropping of rock and they entered a narrow valley dotted with oaks. A rustic looking cabin skirted in fieldstone with a dark green metal roof sat beside a grove of aspen trees. Close by stood an old weathered horse barn built by George's ancestors, and four pintos lined the fence of the attached corral. Joe's sorrel was tied to a post on the porch that wrapped two sides of the cabin, but he wasn't in sight.

"Looks like we found him," Elan said softly as they rode past the corral. "Uncle Jim said he's been staying up here since he found out Guidry was dead."

"Surprised he came to the airport," Deeks said.

"George probably shamed him into it," Elan replied.

"He's got nothing to be ashamed of," Callen said weakly as he rode up behind them.

He tried to get off his horse without help, only to slip from the saddle and tumble onto the ground, crying out when he landed hard on his wounded shoulder. Deeks was beside him in an instant, and Elan cussed softly in Arapaho as they eased him over onto his back and into Deeks' arms.

"Is he hurt?" Joe asked as he slammed out the door of the cabin.

"I'm fine. Just embarrassed," Callen whispered, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

"Why'd you two dumbasses let him ride all the way up here?" Joe demanded angrily. "You damn well should know better."

"It's your fault," Callen said softly.

"How the hell is it my fault?" Joe burst out.

"Good question," Deeks murmured.

"We fly all the way here from New Orleans to see you and you just ride off into the sunset without even saying hello," Callen complained. "Did you think we'd just let you do that?"

"I talked to Deeks," he replied softly.

"And then you hit him," Elan pointed out.

"He shouldn't have called me a couyon," Joe spit out, his anger fresh again. "You sounded just like Guidry, you stupid sonofabitch."

Deeks let go of Callen and stumbled to his feet, his hands now in fists as he squared off in front of his brother and screamed at him. "Don't say that, you fuck. You got no right to ever fucking say that."

"You're right. I don't," Joe said, his voice now barely audible. "Cause you and Callen would never have gotten anywhere near that psycho if I hadn't screwed up."

"That's not true, brother," Deeks said softly, taking a step toward him.

Joe held his hand up to stop him, his face drawn with sadness. He turned away from them and untied his horse, but Deeks got to him before he could mount up.

"We're not letting you leave again, Joe," he said as he placed his hands on his shoulders, holding him in place. "We're all staying right here together, and we're gonna work out all the shit we're dealing with. We're brothers and I'll be damned if I let Antoine Guidry tear us apart."

...

...


	33. Chapter 33

**Brotherhood**

 _Chapter 33_

...

Deeks stood out on the porch as Elan and Joe got Callen settled on the couch, still feeling unsettled by his reaction to Joe's accusation. He wondered if he would have hit his own brother if he'd kept pushing, reminding him he wasn't completely free of Jimmy Hale or of Antoine Guidry. He understood Joe wanting to just get on a horse and ride away, to run from the haunting dreams and the residual rage at what he'd witness and what he'd done to stay undercover. It sure as hell was tempting. Sheila was right there, but he knew with deep certainty that running away wasn't the answer. Facing the reasons Guidry's favorite insult came out of his own mouth wouldn't be easy, but he couldn't face his family and especially Kensi if he didn't deal with it right now. He couldn't let anything about that psychopath remain a part of him. He needed to reconcile his feelings about the man and his actions. He couldn't let Guidry come between him and his brothers.

"You thinking about leaving?" Elan asked softly from behind him.

"It crossed my mind," he replied.

"How 'bout a beer instead?"

"You know all my weaknesses, brother," Deeks said with a soft grin and followed him inside.

He let the screen door slap shut behind him and breathed in the fresh smell of the cedar siding that wrapped the small living room. He smiled at the far wall covered in shingles that had been Soldier's idea. He'd done most of the work himself and was quite proud of it, meticulously hanging up stuff he'd collected around the ranch or found in the old barn. Jim Littleshield had given him the colorful saddle blanket he'd inherited from an aunt and there was a pair of rusted spurs he'd found buried next to the old water trough in the corral. He'd allowed his father to hang his fishing rod on it, and the old wicker creel George had given him when he was a boy. It was homey and Deeks could see why Joe found solace here. It was a good place to hide.

Elan handed him two bottles of beer and nodded to where Joe stood by the red cast-iron wood stove that he and Callen had helped hauled in here. His brother looked sad as he stared down at Callen, who was now snoring softly, his good arm draped over his eyes.

"Signed himself out," Deeks said as he handed Joe a beer. "Hetty was pissed, but as usual, he didn't listen to anybody."

"How'd it happen?" He asked.

"Anybody fill you in on all the players?" Deeks asked in return.

"Not in any detail," he replied. "I know there was a group running things out of Washington, but never heard any names. We're you made? Did Guidry shoot 'im?"

"No...no. There were higher ups in the DOJ and a couple of generals involved. One of them brought his own private army to a meeting with The Brotherhood," Deeks related. "We didn't know they were there...they opened up after Guidry slit the throat of..."

"Stop, Marty," Joe interrupted quietly. "Tell me all of it...from the beginning."

"That won't be easy," Callen murmured. "For any of us."

"You sure you want to hear all that shit?" Deeks asked, decidedly unsure if he wanted to bring it all up again.

"I need to know," he said softly. "I screwed up..."

"Bullshit," Deeks spit out.

"Is it?" Joe said, walking over to stare out the window. "I made a mistake somewhere...let something slip I wasn't supposed to...or maybe I'm just not as good at this as I thought I was..."

"Again...Bullshit," Deeks saying it softer this time. "You fooled them all except for one guy."

"Joe...do you remember a man named Beau?" Callen asked.

"Which one? There were two or three of 'em."

"Big, tough looking...sounded like a reasonable guy..." Deeks said, turning to watch him.

"Yeah...kind of nice...and sharp," Joe answered. "A hell of a lot smarter than most of the men followin' Guidry."

"That big 'ol nice guy fooled us too," Callen said. "He was an undercover operative working under the command of General Rasmussen, one of Newton Pierce's co-conspirators. He was trained in black ops, Joe. He wasn't your average militiaman."

"He suspected you because it takes one to know one," Deeks said.

"You saying I was too good at my job?" Joe asked.

"He's saying Beau was very good at his," Callen said. "Was suspicious of us too."

"Roy thinks the guy managed to get a photo of you at some point, Joe," Elan said. "Got it to Harrison White or Eliot."

"They had access to every database in the intelligence community," Callen said. "Someone didn't bury your file deep enough."

"You two managed to stay under his radar," Joe replied.

"You didn't have the backup we did," Deeks said.

"We were lucky," Callen said.

"Are you serious?" Elan suddenly burst out angrily. "I had to listen to you two get the shit kicked out of you more than once. Deeks was pumped so full of drugs he almost died. Callen...that so-called 'nice guy' shoved a knife in your arm and twisted it to make you talk. I heard all of it...and couldn't do a damn thing to stop any of it."

Elan slammed out the screen door and leaned over the railing of the porch, his head down. Deeks hadn't realized how badly he'd been affected by having to listen to everything they'd gone through. Deeks caught the surprised look on Callen's face, but it was Joe who seemed to understand and followed him out, with both of them right behind.

"Doing this job can be shitty, Elan," Joe said, resting a consoling hand on his broad back. "But listening to someone you care about suffer...it's almost too much to handle."

"Oscar."

"Yeah...I can't forgive myself for what happened to him," Joe said. "I felt totally helpless just like you, Elan. I know that hollow feeling. Your hands tingle...your heart races and your throat closes up...your skin feels too tight and you want to jump right out of it. You want to scream...to beg...to do anything to make it all end..."

"Even sacrifice yourself if that would stop it..." Elan said.

"Guidry knew that, Joe," Callen said. "He knew you cared about Oscar and he used that against you, just like he used our brotherhood against Jimmy and Jake."

"He was good at spotting any weakness," Deeks offered. "And he knew how to exploit it."

"You can't blame yourself for what Guidry did, Joe," Callen said. "Oscar's death belongs at his feet, not yours."

"Easy to say..."

"The Doucets don't hold you accountable, Cuz," Elan said as he turned to face him. "If they can let it go, so can you."

The tears came when Elan wrapped him in a hug and Deeks choked back his own as he reached out to offer comfort. He wondered who Elan was still angry with, because he could see the remaining tension in the muscle of his jaw.

"You gonna take your own advice, Elan?" Deeks asked as they all stepped apart. "You gonna forgive yourself for not charging to our rescue like some superhero?"

"You makin' fun of me, Cuz?" His face turned cold and distant and Deeks realized how his comment must have sounded to him.

"I would never do that, brother," he assured him. "Your hands were tied just as much as Joe's were. But I knew you were there and if I called I knew you'd come. Having your voice in my ear helped me get through all the shit I was dealin' with. But I sure as hell didn't want to see you shot down in front of me trying to save our asses."

"Would like to know what you were saying in Arapaho though," Callen said with a smirk.

"No you wouldn't," Elan said.

"Probably callin' you names," Joe said.

"Called Sam a couple...Roy too," Elan acknowledged. "And Hetty."

"Good thing she can't speak Arapaho," Deeks said with a soft grin.

"Who says she can't?" Callen said as he threw an arm across his shoulder and pulled him toward the door.

There was an awkwardness between them as they moved back inside, none of them sure what to do or talk about next. Joe dropped down on the couch and the others found their way to chairs, staying quiet until Joe looked over at Callen and then at Deeks.

"Tell me about the op," Joe finally said.

"Where do you want me to start?" Deeks asked.

"Start when you got to Louisiana."

"I'm gonna need a beer if we have to start that far back," Callen groaned as he got up and walked into the small kitchen. "Anybody else want one?"

Elan jumped up to help him and when they all settled back down and slowly sipped their beers, Deeks started talking with Callen adding comments as the narrative unfolded.

The story came out in bits and pieces of memories, each one's emotions flaring at different points, stoking long denied rage and revealing moments of fear they'd had no time to deal with. When Deeks would stop, Callen's monotone continued, his account mostly professional until his anger would get the better of him over something that had happened to Deeks. At one point they began to sound like Jimmy and Jake Hale, getting an odd expression of appreciation from Joe, but eliciting an angry response from Elan. When the story was finally finished they were all drained, and Joe's face was full of questions and there was an incensed look in his eyes.

"Why the hell didn't you let Henry kill that sonofabitch?" Joe seethed.

"What?"

"Why'd you save that bastard, Marty? Why?" Joe was on his feet now and sounding slightly irrational.

"I just reacted," Deeks mumbled uncertainly.

"You should have let him die," Joe spit out, his eyes flashing with anger.

Callen stood to confront him, but Deeks began to question his motives, stunned by Joe's sudden outrage.

"The op was just getting started, Joe," Callen said, starting to get worked up himself. "We still needed to find you and discover the identities of the other players. Without Guidry that wouldn't have happened. Deeks was doing his job...you know that."

"Yeah? Well it got the stupid dumbass shot," Joe shouted.

"I needed to find you, you big shit," Deeks snapped out, surprised by his anger and fighting to control his own. "And I needed Guidry alive to do that."

"Come on Joe, he didn't plan on getting shot," Elan said, trying to placate them both.

"But I bet he planned on getting closer to Guidry after that," Joe said.

"How the hell else was I going to get information?" Deeks stormed. "You're not making any sense at all."

"Saving his life made that a whole lot easier," Callen said evenly. "Guidry changed after that. Included Jimmy more. Even began calling him mon fils...means 'my son'."

"I know what it means," Joe snapped. "Called Oscar that a couple of times too, but he still set his dogs on 'im. You must have gotten real close if you're still here."

"Is that what this is about?" Deeks asked. "You're pissed because Guidry took a liking to me?"

"Maybe you got too close, Jimmy," Joe said in a low voice. "Maybe some of his charming personality rubbed off. You called me couyon remember?"

The comment outraged him and Deeks lunged for his brother, but Callen grabbed a fistful of his shirt and stopped him, and Elan grabbed Joe and began talking to him in a voice too low for him to hear. A deep sadness slowly filled him, finding it hard to understand why Joe was being so damn nasty. He hadn't told them everything that was said between him and Guidry in that last conversation, and now he never wanted to.

"Why'd he let you live, Deeks?" Joe asked, tears standing in his eyes. "Why didn't he kill you like he did Oscar?"

"Would you have liked it better if he had, brother?" Deeks asked bitterly as he pushed away from Callen.

Joe looked stunned by the question, but Deeks no longer cared, turning quickly away and slamming out the door. He yanked Sheila's reins free and vaulted into the saddle, kicking her into a gallop as he tore out toward the higher hills beyond Elan's place. He heard Elan and Callen yelling, but he ignored them, kicking his mare harder, wanting to get as far away from Joe as he could, unaware that he was crying.

The land rose up before him and he urged Sheila up the first steep hill he came to, and she groaned as if scolding him as she climbed. He'd never been to this part of the ranch and as he pushed the mare into a loping stride he emptied his mind as he looked out across the rolling hills ahead of him. There were scattered outcroppings of rock along the way and he headed for one that dominated one of the hills above the creek. When he reached it he climbed down and let Sheila loose to graze. He could see the main ranch far below, smoke rising from the chimney and he realized the air had cooled, the wind whipping the grasses around him. The cottonwood trees obscured the barn from here, their leaves fading into yellow now that fall was coming. It was beautiful up here and he dropped down beside the massive rock and leaned back against it, slowly beginning to calm down even though his mind still tumbled over the many questions he couldn't answer. He tried to let his mind go blank, to let the ranch and the wide-open spaces begin to ease his painful homecoming. He hadn't expected accusations and rejection from Joe, but that was what he'd gotten, and as much as he tried he couldn't understand his reaction. It was if he blamed him for surviving. He knew deep in his heart that that wasn't true, but for some reason, Joe did blame him for getting close to Guidry.

Sheila alerted him with a loud whinny that the others had followed him. He wasn't surprised, but he would have liked more time to himself before they showed up. Maybe this high overlook would give them all some perspective.

"This is one of my favorite places," Joe said softly as he walked up to stand beside him.

"Soldier's too," Elan said as he leaned against the rock.

Callen didn't say anything, he just eased down beside him and let out a long sigh and gently squeezed his knee, his support comforting.

"You shouldn't have ridden all the way up here. You're wounded remember?" Deeks quietly scolded him.

"I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't stormed off," he replied.

"Needed some air."

They all stayed quiet for a time, Elan unable to settle, moving restlessly from one foot to the other. Joe remained standing, walking to the edge of the drop off and staring out over the ranch below. He still seemed agitated, but Deeks wasn't going to be the first one to say anything. He couldn't help watching him, noticing that Joe continually rubbed at the healing dog bite on his arm. They hadn't spoken about his ordeal, and Joe hadn't offered to share any details, but Deeks remembered the day they'd found him and he closed his eyes against the disturbing memories. He had suffered and been alone for a long time. Deeks knew what that was like and he felt his anger soften.

"Oscar reminded me of you," Joe finally said. "He was always making stupid jokes about different members of the militia, especially a guy named Pea. Guidry liked him. Said he made him laugh. Didn't count for much in the end."

No one said anything, all of them simply waited to see if he would go on. The wind suddenly died and a stillness settled over the hillside and it grew warm.

"You made Guidry care about you...and I felt..." Joe said haltingly. "I guess it felt like a betrayal."

Deeks flinched, hurt by his words, but he didn't say anything. None of them did, but he heard Callen swear under his breath.

"When I heard you went back in I was so afraid he'd kill you both," he continued. "And it made no sense to me that he didn't when he found out you were a federal agent, Marty. He had the chance, but he let you live. I just wish he had done the same for Oscar, then maybe I wouldn't feel so damn guilty."

"He let me live because I'd saved his life," Deeks said, desperately wanting him to understand. "He knew it was over. The Brotherhood was dead and I think in the end he just wanted to go out on his own terms."

"It had to be something more than that," Joe said.

"I think he loved you, Deeks. He saw you as a son," Callen said, startling him.

"No...no, no. Don't saddle me with that bullshit," Deeks said, stumbling to his feet, unwilling to acknowledge what deep down he knew was probably true.

"It would explain a lot," Elan offered. "Why else would he go all the way to New Orleans to pull you off Pierce's yacht? He threatened to kill those two if they didn't turn you over. And he was serious."

"He came to the hospital too," Callen recalled. "He was truly concerned and really angry at what they'd done to you."

Deeks walked quickly away from them, the thought of that man loving him was too difficult to deal with. It made him feel dirty and he thought he might vomit as he recalled the smell of the man, and the viciousness that waited just below the surface, ready to explode on a whim.

"Marty?" Joe came up behind him, reaching out to grip his shoulder and he stopped.

His anger was roaring now, and he pulled free of his touch, unable to look at him. He had gone into The Brotherhood to save his own brother, and now he thought he might have lost his respect and his love along the way. Guidry's abhorrent love was something he'd never asked for or sought out and it made him sick just thinking about it. What was it about him that made a psycho like that find something he could relate to? What kind of darkness in his own soul had Guidry recognized? What did that say about him?

"What do you want from me, Joe? An apology for surviving that sonofabitch? What?"

"I had no right to say those things to you. Can you forgive me?" Joe asked softly. "You're my brother, Marty, and I love your big dumb ass."

Deeks turned to face him, his eyes suddenly filled with tears as Joe pulled him into a hug. "You're the only dumbass here."

"I deserve that," Joe said softly as he let him go. "But don't forget about Elan."

"And G."

"How come you don't call him Grisha now?" Joe asked.

"Sounds like that hair coloring product."

"I heard that," Callen said as he and Elan joined them.

They gathered close to one another, each one reaching out to touch the others in some way, to rekindle what had temporarily been forgotten in their struggle to come to terms with what they'd all gone through and survived. Deeks figured it would take more long talks and a lot of soul searching to resolve all their feelings, but they had made a start, and he reached once again for Joe, pulling him close to remind him that they would always be brothers.

"Our brotherhood is the real thing," Elan said quietly. "Don't forget that."

"Do we get to have a secret handshake?" Callen asked.

"You're right. He is a dumbass," Joe laughed.

"What's wrong with a secret handshake?" Callen smirked.

Elan said something in Arapaho and they all laughed as if they understood.

"You have to teach us to speak that language," Callen insisted. "It can be our own secret language."

"Now you're just being weird, G." Deeks grinned.

"Many of my people speak our native tongue, so it won't exactly be a secret language."

"Not many Arapaho in Los Angeles," Callen reminded him. "We can all speak it when you come out to visit Elan. It'll drive Sam and Kensi crazy."

"I may not be coming back to LA," Joe told them. "I haven't decided if I want to stay with the FBI."

"You could always take a leave of absence," Callen suggested. "I'm sure Roger Stinson would understand."

"He better after what they put him through," Elan snapped.

"You got a right to be angry about that, Joe," Deeks added. "We didn't know what the hell was going on when we got to your house after we found out you were missing."

"Kensi and Diane told me about that bastard Slater," Joe replied bitterly. "Dad's still angry and if I do go back to the FBI I'm kicking his butt big time."

"If you do it while you're this pissed the FBI may be the one kickin' your butt right out the door," Elan warned.

"They branded me a traitor, Cuz, so I'm not sure I'll give a fuck if they do," he spit out.

"Why don't you come work with us at NCIS?" Deeks asked.

"You think Hetty would have me?" He asked.

"Can't hurt to ask," Callen said as he clapped him on the back. "She's probably had a file on you since the Lee Chao case. If I remember right, she asked you to come over to NCIS way back then."

"Yeah...I remember that," he said softly. "Thanks for the reminder G, I'll think about it."

They all became silent as they turned to look out over the ranch, and Joe threw an arm across Callen's shoulder and pulled Deeks close as Elan gripped the back of his neck. The sun was low in the sky behind them and Deeks felt his heart swell at their renewed brotherhood. They had almost been torn apart trying to save the country and each other, but they had survived it all, having weathered their own turbulent emotions.

"Let's go home, brothers," Joe said. "I'm hungry."

"It's spaghetti," Deeks said. "And apple pie."

"Sorry it ain't pig and grits, kid?" Callen smirked, causing Deeks to groan and make a face.

"I kinda liked the grits," Joe said. "And the cornbread was good."

"Even Roy's horrible gumbo was a hell of a lot better than grits," Deeks said, shivering dramatically.

"Should have had some of the Doucets' étouffée," Elan said. "Mama Doucet made me eat so much I could hardly move."

"Why didn't you sneak some into the hospital for me?" Joe asked as they headed for the horses. "All I got was jello."

"You were lucky Kensi wasn't there. She loves jello," Deeks said as they turned the horses back down the hill.

They bantered and laughed until they reached Elan's place and saw Soldier waiting. He looked worried and they all became quiet.

"What's wrong son?" Elan asked.

"A real tiny lady and a man with a cane are at the house," he said. "George sent me to get you."

"Hetty will love that description," Callen said with a smirk.

"Is the man named Roy?" Elan asked.

"Yeah. Talks funny," Soldier replied. "Better get movin'. Supper's waiting and Kensi's getting grumpy."

"Nice to know some things never change," Deeks laughed, kicking his mare, anxious to see her.

...

Callen was exhausted and in a lot of pain by the time they got close to the ranch house, and Deeks wasn't feeling much better, his ribs screaming with each step Sheila took. Elan and Soldier raced ahead and Deeks smiled at how much alike they looked, riding side by side with their long black hair flying out behind them. Joe ended up holding Callen in the saddle all the way in from the creek and Deeks was glad when they finally stopped, grateful to be on solid ground. Elan and Joe helped Callen inside, and George came up beside him to offer his help, but Deeks waved him off.

"Everything okay, son?" He asked as he stopped him just outside the door.

"We're good," he replied. "Joe and I worked through some things that were bothering him. Probably a lot more talks in our future. Hetty say why she was here?"

"Not yet," George said as he ushered him through the door. "That fella Roy sure does talk a lot though. Said you kept callin' him a dickwad."

"That's cause he is one," Deeks said with a cocky grin. "Hates horses."

"Heard that, boy," Roy said as he limped up to shake his hand. "Nice family ya got here."

"Don't go telling them too many stories," Deeks warned, giving him a hard look that had Roy nodding with understanding.

George led Roy off into the kitchen questioning him about his reasons for disliking horses, and Deeks smile as he looked around the room for the others. Callen was finally settled on the leather sofa in front of the fire talking quietly to Hetty when he saw Kensi walk in from the bedroom. Her hair was loose and longer than he remembered, and his heart stuttered for a moment as he held his breath, touched by the warm smile that widened when she saw him. She waited for him as he crossed the room to meet her, reaching out for her hand, the touch of her cool fingers sending a feeling of calm all the way through him. There was a sense of serenity he felt around her and he'd missed that, so he pulled her closer, wanting to bathe in it, needing her strength and steadiness to get him through whatever Hetty was going to tell them.

"Hey," he said. "No crutches?"

"Thought I'd try the cane," she said, striking a very sexy pose that made him grin like an idiot.

She looked over at Joe as Elan introduced him to Roy and grew serious. "How'd it go?"

"It was tough on all of us," he said as he followed her gaze.

"I was asking about you."

He dropped his head and she moved closer until she was leaning against him, one hand pressed over his heart and the other toying with the hair at the base of his neck.

"He was so angry at me, Kens," he shared. "And it made me mad. I couldn't understand why. I'm not sure he even knew."

"Did you get through to him?"

"Yeah, we finally did and I think we're good," Deeks said earnestly. "It was hard. It was almost as if he hated me for being alive and standing there in front of him."

"He was scare for you, Deeks," she assured him. "He broke down when he heard it was over and that you and Callen were safe."

"I think he expects me to fall apart like he did," Deeks said sadly.

"Will you?"

"I'm still processing it all, Kens," he replied. "It was a living hell, and he knows what it was like, but I had Callen with me. Joe lost his partner, and he blames himself. That's not something you get over in a couple of days or weeks. But we're all here for each other and we'll work it out together."

Hetty caught his eye and motioned for him to come, and he blew out his breath, trying to prepare himself. Kensi led him over in front of the fireplace while Hetty smiled tightly and sat down next to Callen. Roy and Joe joined them, stepping over a couple of sleeping dogs before settling into the leather chairs next to the sofa. The rest of the family gave them their privacy, leaving them alone to discuss the remnants of the mission that would draw Deeks back into a world he longed to forget.

"Mr. Callen. You've looked better. Riding a horse with a gunshot wound is not something I would recommend in the future," she scolded with a soft smile. "Mr. Deeks. I bring news about Jacqueline Bennet."

Deeks dropped Kensi's hand and stiffened, making Elan hurry to his side and run a hand along his shoulder, steadying him, even though his own hand was trembling.

"Don't remember her name in your little recap of events," Joe said.

"Shut up, Joe," Elan said evenly. "If Marty wanted you to know he would have told you."

"Do you want them all to stay, Mr. Deeks?"

"Of course...their family."

"Good ta know, kid," Roy said.

"Did she get away?" Deeks asked as he took Kensi's hand once again.

"No. Newton Pierce made sure of that before he left for New Orleans," she said quietly. "Her body was found this morning on a horse farm in Maryland she'd inherited from her great aunt. Safa said she'd been trussed up in a complicated arrangement of ropes and knots on the bed upstairs. She'd been strangled, among other things. Safa said it was quite gruesome."

"How do you know Pierce did it?" Deeks asked haltingly.

"Nell was able to hack into the security system," he replied. "Apparently Mr. Pierce didn't know Jacqueline had hidden cameras in all the bedrooms. You could say he was caught with his pants down."

Deeks started to leave, desperate to be by himself to deal with all the emotions that came storming back, but Hetty held her hand up and he stopped.

"I think you might want to hear this, Mr. Deeks," she said. "Jacob Pensky has been quite talkative about what they'd been planning, giving us more than enough to send Harrison White and General Rasmussen away for the rest of their lives and not in the comfort they had become accustomed to."

"Thought those ugly bastards would turn on each other," Roy said.

"There will be a Congressional hearing, of course, and the members of our task force will be asked to testify, but that won't be for some time," she continued. "Washington is in quite a tizzy over this. But, the Attorney General wants to honor you three and a representative from the Doucet family in a private ceremony at the White House. You will all receive the highest honors for what you did. Oscar will receive the FBI Shield of Bravery in honor of his sacrifice, and the Doucet family will receive the FBI Memorial Star. Joe...you will receive the Shield of Bravery as well."

"Do I get an apology or have they conveniently forgotten they labeled me a traitor?" He growled as he stood up. "Now they want to give me a medal? Fuck 'em. They can keep it."

Deeks could see how raw his anger was, and wrapped an arm around his chest as he tried to leave. Callen stood up and took his arm as Elan stepped in front of him. He stood with his head down as they surrounded him, struggling to control his emotions.

"What you did was for your country, Joe," Callen said. "Not for the FBI. Let them make amends."

"You earned that honor, Cuz," Elan said softly.

"You'll be standing up for Oscar, brother," Deeks said. "They need to hear what he did for his country and you're the only one who can tell his story."

"He never broke...he kept his cover the whole time. Didn't give up a damn thing," Joe said as tears streamed down his face. "That kid was so damn brave and Guidry killed him for it."

"I'm so sorry, brother," Deeks said.

"You would have liked him," he whispered through his tears. "He was a dumbass just like you."

"Want to get some air, Cuz?" Elan asked.

He nodded and they headed for the door. Deeks squeezed Kensi's hand as he turned to follow, but she pulled him back and kissed him lightly on the mouth. She smiled softly at him as she brushed away a tear that still clung to his cheek and then shoved him toward the door. He caught up with his brothers as they walked toward the barn in the twilight. Their arms were draped across each other's shoulders and he broke between them to be close to Joe. This time their silence was comforting. They were together again. They're brotherhood had survived, and their love for one another was stronger than the arrogant men who had tried to break them.

...

...

 _Thanks to all of you who have followed this story or simply dropped by for a chapter or two. I appreciated every encouraging review I received. They were like signposts along the way._

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